Skip to main content

Full text of "The book of days : a miscellany of popular antiquities in connection with the calendar, including anecdote, biography & history, curiosities of literature, and oddities of human life and character"

See other formats











HE Book of Days was designed to consist of — 1. Matters connected 
witli the Church Kalendar, including the Popular Festivals, 
Saints' Days, and other Holidays, Avith illustrations of Christian 
Antiquities in general ; 2. Phsenomena connected with the Seasonal 
hanges ; 3. Folk-Lore of the United Kingdom — namely, Popular 
itions and Observances connected with Times and Seasons ; 
otahle Events, Biographies, and Anecdotes connected with the Days 
he Year; 5. Articles of Popular Archaeology, of an entertaining 
acter, tending to illustrate the progress of Civilisation, Manners, 
ature, and Ideas in these kingdoms ; 6. Curious, Fugitive, and Inedited 
It was stated to he the desire of the Editor — while not discouraging the 
progressive spirit of the age, to temper it with affectionate feelings towards 
what is poetical and elevated, honest and of good report, in the old national life ; 
while in no way discountenancing great material interests, to evoke an equal activity 
in those feelings heyond self, on which depend remoter but infinitely greater interests ; 
to kindle and sustain a spirit of patriotism, tending to unity, peace, and prosperity 
in our own state, while not exclusive of feelings of benevolence, as well as justice, 
towards others. It was desired that these volumes should' be a repertory of old fireside 
ideas in general, as well as a means of improving the fireside wisdom of the present 

The day of profession has now merged into the day of performance, the half of 
the work being completed. It is given to few to feel assured that every particular of 
a favourite object has been duly accomplished ; and the individual who has super- 
intended the birth of these pages is certainly not of that happy minority. He would 
say, nevertheless, that he has done his best, with the means and opportunities at his 
disposal, to produce a work answering to his plan, and calculated to improve, while 
it entertains, and mingling the agreeable with the instructive. It Avill also be his hope 
to produce a second volume, if possible to him, excelling the first ; and in this he 
meanwhile rests, The Gentle Reader's Humble Servant. 


mi 0f Sltefesrfera. 

General Vignette : Book of Days, 1 

Initial Letter : Time, , . 1 

Portrait : Julius Csesar, . 4 

Clog Almanac, .... 9 

Emblematic Vignette : January, 15 

Initial Letter : January, . . 15 

Curling, 20 

Various Forms of Snow Crystals, 21 

Sledge-travelling on Snow, . 22 
Illustration for First of January : 

the Wassail Bowl, ... 23 

Biirger's Lenore, ... 24 

First-Footing in Edinburgh, . 29 

Hobson, the Cambridge Carrier, .35 
The Death of General "Wolfe 

(from the painting by West), . 37 

Portrait : P. Ovidius Naso, . 38 

Josiah Wedgwood, . 44 

Douglas Jerrold, . 45 

Horn Book— 17th Century, . 47 
Death and Burial of Edward the 
Confessor, from the Bayeux 

Tapestry, .... 54 

Portrait : Benjamin Franklin, 58 
Printing Press worked at by 

FrankUn in London, . . 59 

Illustration : Twelfth-day, . 61 

The King of the Bean, . , 63 

Birch's Shop, 15 CornhiU, . 64 

Spinning with the Distaff, . . 69 
Armorial Coat of the Earl of 

Stair—' The Curse of Scotland,' 75 
Frontispiece of a Dutch News- 
paper, 1653, .... 76 
Quigrich of St Fillan, . . 79 
Portrait : Caroline L. Herschel, 81 
Touch Piece (time of Charles II.), 85 

(time of Queen Anne), 85 

Portrait : Dr Birkbeck, . . 87 

Sir Rowland Hill, . 90 

Procession of the Plough on 

Plough Monday, ... 95 
The Quern, .... 96 
The Running Footman, . . 99 
St Veronica's Miraculous Hand- 
kerchief, .... 101 
Early Effigies of St Peter and St 

Paul, 102 

Portrait : Charles James Fox, 103 
The Glasgow Arms, . . .106 

Fair on the Thames, 1716, . 109 

Frozen-out Gardeners, . , 111 

Portrait : Dr Parr, . . 116 

Swearing on Horns at Highgate, 118 

Portrait : Edward Gibbon, . 121 

Residence of Gibbon at Lausanne, 121 
Monument of Sir John Moore, at 

Corunna, .... 123 

Trial of a Sow and Pigs at Lavegny, 128 
Model of Newcomen's Steam- 
engine, used by James Watt, . 134 
Autograph : Elizabeth, Queen of 

Denmark, .... 136 
Primitive Bone Skates, . . 138 
Skating Scene, .... 139 
Monxunent to Lord Bacon, . 144 
Stock-jobbing Cards, or the 

Humours of Change AUey, . 147 
South-Sea Bubble — Caricature by 

Hogarth, . . . .149 

Portrait : The Old Countess of 

Desmond, .... 150 
The Royal Exchange, London, as 

built by Sir Thomas Gresham, 153 
Portrait of Robert Bums, from a 

SUhouette, . . . .158 
Cottage at AHoway, the Birth- 
place of Bums, . . . 159 
Mayoral Door-posts, Norwich, 

1592, 162 

Henry VUI. delivering the Bible 

to Cranmer and Cromwell, . 163 
Chained Bible in Cumnor Church, 

Berkshire, .... 164 
Monument of Burton in Christ 

Church, 170 

Tokens of Coffeehouses, . . 171 
Coffeehouse, tem]x Charles II., . 172 
Sayes Court, Deptford, Residence 

of Peter the Great, . . 175 

Medal Struck in honour of Lord 

North, 177 

Watt and Boulton's Establishment 

in Birmingham, . . .178 
Group of Court Fools, . . 179 
Portrait : WiU Somers, . . 180 

Archie Armstrong, 183 

Execution of Charles I., . . 189 
King Charles L's Bible, . . 190 

Watch, . . 191 

Calves'-Head Club, . . 192 

Memorials of Charles I., . . 194 
Portrait : Charles Edward Stuart, 199 
Emblematic Vignette : February, 202 
Initial Letter : Febmary, . . 202 
The Bell Rock Lighthouse, . 208 
Ducking Stool, as practised at 

Broadwater, near Leominster, 209 
Ducking-Chair at a VUlage WeU, 209 
Scold about to be Ducked, . 210 

Scold's Bridle or Brank, . 211 

Wedding Rings (five cuts), 220-21 j 
Marocco, the Wonderful Horse, 225 
The Great Bed of Ware, . 229 
Lady Carried in a Sedan, temp. 

George II., .... 231 

Throwing the Pancake on Slirove 

Tuesday in Westminster School, 237 
The Flogging-horse, Free School, 

Lichfield, .... 240 
' The Generous Repulse,' . 243 
Sculpture on Thynne's Monument, 

in Westminster Abbey, . . 248 
St Valentine's Day, Emblematic 

Illustration, .... 255 
St Valentine's Letter-shower, 255 
The Great Tun of Heidelberg, . 260 
De Saussure ascending Mont Blanc, 267 
Funeral Garlands, Ashford-in-the- 

Water Church, . . .273 
Funeral Garland, Matlock Church, 273 
Henry, Prince of Wales, . . 275 
' So Sleep came upon him,' . 277 
Bell Inn, Warwick Lane, . 278 
Oxford Arms Inn, Warwick Lane, 279 
The Archduke of Austria consvdt- 

ing a Fortune-teUer, . . 282 
Portrait : George Washington, 285 
Armorial Bearings of the Wash- 

ingtons, 286 

Portrait : Rev. Sydney Smith, 287 
Staircase in Sir Joshua Reynolds's 

House, Leicester Square, . 289 
A Silver Pomander, . . 291 
Ballet of Dogs and Monkeys, . 293 
A Monkey Town besieged by Dogs, 294 
Portrait : WilliamKitchiner,M.D.,299 
Spanish Commander's Sword, pre- 
sented by Nelson to Norwich, 301 
Ancient Bell Foundry Stamps, 

(nine cuts), .... 302 
Portrait : Mary Honeywood, aged 

93, 307 

Emblematic Vignette : March, 311 
Initial Letter : March, . . 311 
St David, Emblematic Portrait, 315 
Caxton's House, Westminster, . 317 
Dedication to Duke of Clarence, 318 
Strawberry Hill, Grand Gallery, 323 
Papal Cursing Bell for Animals, 324 
Summer - House at Honfleur, 

Refuge of Louis Philippe, . 326 
The Merry Undertakers, . 330 
Simnel Cakes, .... 336 
Canterbury POgrim Signs (3 cuts), 339 
Portrait : William Cobbett, . 345 
Miss Linwood's Exhibition of 

Needlework, .... 349 
Old London Shops (six cuts), 350-51-62 
The Three Witches of Belvoir, 356 
Interior of Old St Paul's, . . 359 
The Butchers' Serenade, . 360 

Portrait : Professor Daniell, . 365 
OldSarum, .... 370 





The Greybeard Jug, . . .371 

Shakspeare's Burial-place and 

Norwegian Bride, . . . 721 

; The Globe Theatre, . . 3S0 

Monument, Stratford-upon-Avon 

' The First Kiss these Ten 

Brydges and Sterne as Mounte- 

Church, 544 

Years,' 724 

banks, 388 

St Mark's Eve, ... 550 

Lord Howe's Victory of the 1st of 

Portrait : Lady M. W. Montagu, 389 

Cromwell's Baptismal Register, 551 

June, 1794, . . . .725 

Pi-occssion of the Ass, . . 396 

Ninewclls House, Birthplace of 

St Patrick's Purgatory, . . 726 

The Gad- whip, .... 398 

Da\dd Hume, .... 555 

The Maiden, .... 728 

1 Autograph : Isaac Nc^\'ton, . 399 

Walton Chamber, . . . 558 

'The Bear,' at Cmnnor, . . 735 

House at Nottingham iji which 

Cowper Thornhill's ride, . . 561 

Visiting Cards of ISth and 19th 

Henry I\ii-ke Wliite was bom, 402 

Quarter-staff, Sherwood Forest, 563 

Centuries (six cuts), . 738-39-40 

Grand Master of tlie Templars, 40-4 

Emblematic Vignette : May, 565 

Portrait : Jeremy Bentham, . 741 

1 Autograph : Pedro the Cruel, . 407 

Initial Letter : May, . . . 565 

Revolution House, Whittington, 746 

Canipden House, . . . 410 

Raising of the May-pole, . 572 

Vaults at Lady Place, . . 746 

Maundy Money, .... 412 

Children's May-day Customs, . 573 

The 'No-Popei-y Riots' in London, 748 

Autograph : Queen Elizabeth, 414 

Milkmaids' Dance on May-day, 574 

The Dunmow Procession, 1751, . 750 

Manor House of Stoke-Pogis, . 415 

May-poles, English and Foreign 

The Dunmow Chair, . . 751 

The Holy Coat of Treves, . 420 

(five cuts), .... 575-76 

Portrait : Schamyl, . . .757 

; Italian Penitent in Lent Proces- 

May-queen in South of France, 580 

Schamyl's Order of Bravery, . 758 

1 sions, 421 

Beating the Bounds in London, 584 

Group of Fashionables of the 

Preaching Cross, St Paid's, 1620, 423 

The Beggars' Opera, as first per- 

Male Sex, reign of WiUiam HI., 761 

The Pope Carried in St Peter's 

formed (two cuts), . . . 594 

Lady and Gentleman Meeting in 

Churcli on Easter Day, . . 426 

The Hall Well, Tissington, as 

the Fashionable Promenade, 

High Cross of Chester, . . 428 

Dressed for Ascension Day, . 595 

reign of George I., . . 761 

Trumpeter and Herald in the 

Whipping-post and Stool, . 599 

Group of Park Fashionables, time 

Chester Festivities, . . 430 

Parish Stocks, .... 599 

of George II., ... 762 

Easter Singers in the Tyrol, . 432 

Master John Shorne, . . 610 

Group of Park Fashionables, 

Hendlip House, .... 434 

Portrait : Colonel Blood, . . 612 

about 1780, . . . .762 

Effigy of Su- Thomas Parkyns, 437 

The Imperial Crown, . . 014 

Portrait : 'The Old Pretender,' 764 

Portrait : Captain Coram, by 

Portrait : Annie Wilson of Roslin, 623 

Gateway of Boarstall House, 

Hogarth, 438 

'Prentice's Pillar, &c. (four cuts), 624 

and Ground-plan, . . . 766 

Fantoccini in London, . . 449 

The Morris-dancers, . . . 631 

Picture from the Chartulary of 

Emblematic Yignette : April, . 452 

Chester Mystery Plays, . . 634 

Boarstall, . . . .768 

Initial Letter : April, . . 452 

Whitsunday Fete at Naples, . 638 

English Bowmen, . . . 776 

Hackney Coachman, temp. 

A Statute Fair, . . . 644 

St Anthony Preaching to the 

Charles n., . . . .460 

Archbishop Parker's Salt-vat, . 648 

Fishes, 777 

April Fool's Day, ... 461 

Portrait : Corporal Macpherson, 050 

Tongue of St Anthony in its 

The Game of PaU Mall, . . 465 

The Mischianza Ticket, . . 051 

Shrine at Padua, . . . 778 

Mallet and Ball formerly used in 

Garrat Elections (three cuts), 662-63 

Portrait : Edward, the Black Prince, 781 

the Game of PaU Mall, . . 465 

Cliefden House, as before 1795, 664 

Autograph : John Wesley, . 789 

The Old Fleet Prison, . . 466 

Boot, Glove, &c., of Henry VL, 669 

Burlesque Armorial Bearings— 

Joe Haines addressing a Thea- 

Armorial Bearings of Nelthorpe, The Old and Young Club, . 792 

tiical Audience from the back 

of Gray's Inn, co. Middlesex, . 671 

The Undertakers, . . 792 

of an Ass, .... 476 

The Iron Crown of Italy, . 673 

The Duke of Norfolk, . 793 

Stow's Monument, . . . 479 

Linnaeus Travelling in Lapland, 676 

Seymour, Duke of Somerset, 793 

A Turnspit at Work, . . 490 

Autograph : Charles, Duke of 

Attorney-General, as a ' Sup- 

The BeUman of Holboni, . 496 

Orleans, 682 

porter,' . . . .793 

Kent's Dubious Altar-piece, . 501 

Pepys's House, Buckingham Street, 083 

Children's Altar at the Fete Dieu, 795 

Eush Bearing, .... 506 

Vauxhall, 1751, . . . .091 

Cradle of King James I. of England, 796 

The Pvush-holder, . . .507 

Boscobel House, . . . 695 

Portrait : Eleanour Rumming, . 801 

Mountebank distributing his 

Coat of Arms of Colonel Careless, 696 

Captain Backhouse's Tomb, . 804 

Wares on the Stage, . . 512 

Silver Cup of Barber Surgeons' 

Book-Fish, . . . .811 

Knife, Fork, and Spoon (in a case) 

Company of London, . . 696 

Creslow Church, North Side, 812 

of Prince Charles Stuart, . 520 

Autograph : Duchess of Marl- 

Creslow Manor-house, . . 812 

Knife, Fork, and Spoon (separ- 

borough, .... 700 

Collar of the Order of the Garter, 817 

ately), 520 

The Tailors' Arbour, Shrewsbui-y, 705 

Bamborough Castle, . . . 818 

Jemmy Wood's House, Gloucester, 529 

The Shoemakers' Arbour, . . 706 

St Anne's Well, Buxton, deco- 

Paper Marks (six cuts), . . 532-33 

The Procession, . . . 707 

rated, 819 

Signs and Tokens of London Inns 

Portrait : Cecily, Duchess of York, 712 

Silhouette Portrait : David 

(six cuts), . . . 535-38 

The Cotswold Games, . . 714 

Williams, . . . .826 

St George and Dragon, . . 539 

Emblematic Vignette : June, . 715 

Pillory, 830 

Portrait : William Shakspeare, . 542 

Initial Letter : June, . . . 715 

Pillory for a Number of Persons, 830 

Birthplace of Shakspeare, . 542 

Initial Letter : June, . . 719 

Gates in the Pillory, . . .832 


Page 120 : the article on the Legal Prosecutions of the Lower Animals, ought to have 

been placed m connection with St Anthony of Padua, under June 13. 



is one of tliose 
tilings whick can- 
not be defined. 
We only know or 
become sensible of it tlirougli 
certain processes of nature wliicli 
require it for their being car- 
ried on and perfected, and to- 
wards wliicli it may therefore be 
said to bear a relation. We only 
appreciate it as a fact in the uni- 
versal frame of things, when we are 
enabled by these means to measure 
it. Thus, the rotation of the earth on 
its axis, the process by which we obtain 
the alternation of day and night, takes a 
certain space of time. This, multiplied by 
gives the time required for the revolution of 

the earth around the sun, the process by which we 
enjoy the alternations of the seasons. The life of 
a well-constituted man will, under fair condi- 
tions, last during about seventy siich spaces of 
time or years ; very rarely to a hundred. The 
cluster of individuals termed a nation, or consti- 
tuting a state, will pass through certain changes, 
inferring moral, social, and poUtical improve- 
ment, in the course of still larger spaces of time ; 
say several centuries : also certain processes of 
decay, requiring, perhaps, equal spaces of time. 
With such matters it is the province of history 
to deal ; and actually from this source we learn 
pretty clearly what has been going on upon tLe 
surface of the earth during about four thousand 
years. We have also reason, however, to con- 
clude, that our planet has existed for a prodigi- 
ously longer space of time than that. The 


sculptures of Egypt are held by scliolars to 
imply that there was a political fabric of the 
monarchical kind in that countr}^ thirty-four 
centuries before the commencement of our pre- 
sent era. Eude Aveapous and implements of 
stone, iliut, and bone, found interred in countries 
now occupied by civilised people, point, in like 
manner, to the existence of savage nations in 
those regions at a time long before the com- 
mencement of history. Geology, or the exami- 
nation of the crust of the earth, still further 
prolongs our backward view of time. It shews 
that the earth has passed through a succession 
of ph3'sical changes, extending over a great 
series of ages ; that during the same time vege- 
table and animal life underwent great changes ; 
changes of one set of species for others ; an 
advancement from invertebrate to vertebrate 
animals, from fishes to reptiles, from reptiles to 
birds and mammifers ; of these man coming in 
the last. Thus it has happened that we could 
now give a biography of our little world, in 
which the four thousand years of written history 
would be multiplied many times over; and yet 
this vastly extended period must, after all, be 
regarded as but a point in that stretch of dura- 
tion which we call time. All beyond, where 
related facts fall us — above all, a beginning or 
an end to time — are inconceivable ; so entirely 
dependent is our idea of it upon measurement, 
or so purely, rather, may it be said to consist of 

What we are more immediately concerned 
with at present is the Yeae, the space of time 
required for a revolution of the earth around the 
sun, being about one-seventieth of the ordinary 
duration of a healthy human life. It is a period 
very interesting to us in a natural point of view, 
because within it are included all seasonal changes, 
and of it nearly everything else in our experi- 
ence of the appearances of the earth and sky is 
merely a repetition. Standing in this relation to 
us, the year has very reasonably become the 
unit of our ordinary reckonings of time when 
any larger space is concerned ; above all, in the 
statement of the progress and completion of 
human life. An old man is said to die full of 
years. Sis years have been few, is the affecting 
expression we use regarding one who has died in 
youth. The anniversary of an event makes an 
appeal to our feelings. We also speak of the 
history of a nation as its annals — the transac- 
tions of its succession of years. There must 
have been a sense of the value and importance of 
the year as a space of time from a very early 
period in the history of humanity, for even the 
simplest and rudest people would be sensible of 
' the seasons' difference,' and of the cycle which 
the seasons formed, and wotild soon begin, by 
observations of the rising of the stars, to ascer- 
tain roughly the space of time which that cycle 

Striking, however, as the year is, and must 
always have been, to the senses of mankind, we 
can read.ily see that its value and character were 
not so liable to be appreciated as were those of 
the minor space of time during which the earth 
performed its rotation on its own axis. That 
space, within which the simple fathers of our 

race saw light and dai-kness exchange possession 
of the earth — which gave themselves a waking 
and a sleeping time, and periodicised many 
others of their personal needs, powers, and sen- 
sations, as well as a vast variety of the obvious pro- 
cesses of external nature — must have impressed 
them as soon as reflection dawned in their 
minds ; and the Day, we may be very sure, there- 
fore, was amongst the first of human ideas. 

While thus obvious and thus important, the 
Day, to man's experience, is a space of time too 
frequently repeated, and amounting consequently 
to too large numbers, to be readily available iii any 
sortof historic reckoningor reference. ItisequaUy 
evident that, for such purposes, the year is a 
period too large to be in any great degree avail- 
able, until mankind have advanced considerably 
in mental culture. AVe accordingly find that, 
amongst rude nations, the intermediate space of 
time marked by a revolution of the moon — the 
Month — has always been first employed for his- 
torical indications. This completes the series of 
natural periods or denominations of time, unless 
we are to agree with those who deem the Weelc 
to be also such, one determined by the observa- 
tion of the principal aspects of the moon, as half 
in increase, full, half in decrease, and change, or 
simply by an arithmetical division of the month 
into four parts. All other denominations, as 
hours, minutes, &c., are unquestionably arbi- 
trary, and some of them comparatively modern ; 
in fact, deduced from clockwork, without which 
they coiild never have been measured or made 
sensible to us. 

)it Wimt. 

Why sit'st thou by that ruined hall, 
Thou aged carle, so stern and gray ? 
Dost thou its former pride recall, 
Or ponder how it passed away ? 

Kuow'st thou not me ? the Deep Voice cried, 
So long enjoyed, so oft misused — 
Alternate, in thy fickle pride, 
Desired, neglected, and accused ? 

Before my breath, like blazing flax, 
Man and his marvels pass away ; 
And changing empu-es wane and wax, 
Are foimded, flourish, and decay. 

Redeem mine hours — the space is brief — 
While in my glass the sand-grains shiver, 
And measureless thy joy or grief. 
When Time and thou shalt part for ever ! 

The Antiquary. 



A man's LIFE. 

There is a traditionary story very widely dif- 
fused over the country, to the effect that St 
Paul's clock on one occasion struck thirteen at 
midnight, with the extraordinary result of saving 
the life of a sentinel accused of sleeping at his 
post. It is not much less than half a century 


since the writer heard the tale related in a remote 
part of Scotland. In later times, the question has 
been put, Is there any historic basis for this tra- 
dition ? followed by another still more pertinent, 
Is the alleged fact mechanically possible ? and to 
both an afiirmative answer has been given. 

An obituary notice of John Hatfield, who died 
at his house in Glasshouse-yard, Aldersgate, on 
the 18th of June 1770, at the age of 102— which 
notice appeared in the Public Advertiser a few 
days afterwards — states that, when a soldier in 
the time of William and Mary, he was tried by 
a court-martial, on a charge of having fallen 
asleep when on duty upon the terrace at Wind- 
sor. It goes on to state — ' He absolutely denied 
the charge against him, and solemnly declared 
[as a proof of his having been awake at the time], 
that he heard St Paid's clock strike thirteen, 
the truth of which was much doubted by the 
court because of the great distance. But while 
he was under sentence of death, an affidavit was 
made by several persons that the clock actually 
did strike thirteen instead of twelve ; whereupon 
he received his majesty's pardon.' It is added, 
that a recital of these circumstances was en- 
graved on the coffin-plate of the old soldier, ' to 
satisfy the world of the truth of a story which 
has been much doubted, though he had often 
confirmed it to many gentlemen, and a few days 
before his death told it to several of his 

An allusion to the story occurs in a poem 
styled A Trip to Windsor, one of a volume 
published in- 1774 under the title of Weeds of 
Parnassus, by Timotliy Scribble : 
' The terrace walk we with surprise behold, 
Of which the giudes have oft the story told : 
Hatfield, accused of sleeping on his post, 
Heard Paul's beU sounding, or his life had lost. ' 
A correction, however, must here be applied — 
namely, that the clock which struck on this im- 
portant occasion was Tom of Westminster, which 
was afterwards removed to St Paid's. It seems 
a long way for the sound to travel, and when we 
think of the noises which fill this bustling city 
even at midnight, the possibility of its "being 
heard even in the suburbs seems faint. Yet we 
miist recollect that London was a much quieter 
town a hundred and fifty years ago than now, 
and the fact that the tolling of St Paul's has 
often been heard at Windsor, is undoubted. 
There might, moreover, be a favourable state of 
the atmosphere. 

As to the query, Is the striking of thirteen 
mechanically possible? a correspondent of the 
Notes and Queries has given it a satisfactory 
answer.*_ ' AU striking clocks have two spindles 
for winding: one of these is for the going part, 
which turns the hands, and is connected with 
and regulated by the pendulum or balance- 
spring. Every time that the minute hand comes 
to twelve, it raises a catch connected with the 
striking part (which has been standing still for 
the previous sixty minutes), and the striking 
work then makes as many strokes on the bell 
(or spring gong) as the space between the notch 
which the catch has left and the next notch 
allows. When the catch falls into the next notch, 
* Second Series, vii. 14. 

it again stops the striking work till the minute 
hand reaches twelve again an hour afterwards. 
Now, if the catch be stiff", so as not to fall into 
the notch, or the notch be worn so as not to hold 
it, the clock will strike on till the catch does 
hold. ... If a clock strike midnight and the 
succeeding hour together, there is thirteen at 
once, and very simply. ... If the story of St 
Paul's clock be true, and it only happened once, 
it must have been from stiffness or some mecha- 
nical obstacles.' 

In connection with the above London legend, 
it is worthy of remark that, on the morning of 
Thursday the 14th of March 1861, ' the inhabi- 
tants of the metropolis were roused by repeated 
strokes of the new great beU of Westminster, 
and most persons supposed it was for a death in 
the royal family. It proved, however, to be due 
to some derangement of the clock, for at four 
and five o'clock, ten or twelve strokes were 
struck instead of the proper number.' The 
gentleman who communicated this fact through 
the medium of the Notes and Queries, added: 
' On mentioning this in the morning to a friend, 
who is deep in London antiquities, he observed 
that there is an opinion in the city that anything 
the matter with St Paul's great bell is an omen of 
ill to the royal family; and he added: "I hope the 
opinion will not extend to the Westminster bell." 
This was at 11 on Friday morning. I see this 
morning that it was not till 1 a.m. the lamented 
Duchess of Kent was considered in the least 
danger, and, as you are aware, she expired in 
less than twenty-four hours.' 


A watch differs from a clock in its having a 
vibrating wheel instead of a vibrating pendu- 
lum; and, as in a clock, gravity is always pulling 
the pendulum down to the bottom of its arc, 
which is its natural place of rest, but does not 
fix it there, because the momentum acquired 
during its fall from one side carries it up to an 
equal height on the other — so in a watch a spring, 
generally spiral, surrounding the axis of the 
balance-wheel, is always pulling this towards a 
middle position of rest, but does not fix it there, 
because the momentum acquired during its ap- 
proach to the middle position from either side 
carries it just as far past on the other side, and 
the spring has to begin its work again. The 
balance-wheel at each vibration allows one tooth 
of the adjoining wheel to pass, as the pendulum 
does in a clock ; and the record of the beats is 
preserved by the wheel which follows. A main- 
spring is used to keep up the motion of the watch, 
instead of the weight used in a clock ; and as a 
spring acts equally well whatever be its position, 
a watch keeps time though carried in the pocket, 
or in a moving ship. In winding up a watch, 
one turn of the axle on which the key is fixed is 
rendered equivalent, by the train of wheels, to 
about 400 turns or beats of the balance-wheel; 
and thus the exertion, during a few seconds, of 
the hand which winds up, gives motion for twenty- 
four or thirty hours. — Dr. Arnott. 


The Year. 

Tlio length, of the year is strictly expressed by 
the space of time required for the revolution 
of the earth round the 
sun — namely, 365 days, 
5 houi's, 48 minutes, 49 
seconds, and 7 tenths 
of a second, for to such 
a nicety has this time 
been ascertained. But 
for conrenience in reck- 
oning, it has been found 
necessary to make the 
year terminate with a 
day instead of a frac- 
tion of one, lumping the fractions together so as 
to make up a day among themselves. About 
forty-five years before Christ, Julius Caesar, hav- 
ing, by the help of Sosigenes, an Alexandrian 
philosopher, come to a tolerably clear under- 
standing of the length of the year, decreed that 
every fourth year should be held to consist of 
366 days for the purpose of absorbing the odd 
hours. The arrangement he dictated was a 
rather clumsy one. A day in February, the 
sixth before the calends of March {sextilis), was 
to be repeated in that fourth year; and each 
fourth year was thus to be bissextile. It was as 
if we were to reckon the 23d of February twice 
over. Seeing that, in reality, a day every fourth 
year is too much by 11 minutes, 10 seconds, and 
3 tenths of a second, it inevitably followed that 
the beginning of the year moved onward ahead 
of the point at which it was in the days of 
Csesar ; in other words, the natural time fell 
behind the reckoning. From the time of the 
Council of Nice, in 325, when the vernal equinox 
fell correctly on the 21st of March, Pope Gre- 
gory found in 1582 that there had been an over- 
reckoning to the extent of ten days, and now the 
vernal equinox fell on the 11th of March. To 
correct the j)ast error, he decreed that the 5th of 
October that year should be reckoned as the 
15th, and to keep the year right in future, the 
overplus being 18 hours, 37 minutes, and 10 

seconds in a century, lie ordered that every cen- 
turial year that could not be divided by 4, (1700, 
1800, 1900, 2100, 2200, &c.) should not be bissex- 
tile, as it otherwise would be ; thus, in short, 
dropping the extra day three times every four 
hundred j^ears. The Gregorian style, as it was 
called, readily obtained sway in Catholic, but 
not in Protestant countries. It was not adopted 
in Britain till the year 1752, by which time the 
discrepancy between the Julian and Gregorian 
periods amounted to eleven days. An act of par- 
liament was passed, dictating that the 3d of Sep- 
tember that year should be reckoned the 14th, 
and that three of every four of the centurial 
years should, as in Pope Gregory's arrangement, 
not be bissextile or leap-years. It has conse- 
quently arisen — 1800 not having been a leap- 
year — that the new and old styles now differ by 
twelve days, the 1st of January old style being the 
1 3th of the month neAv style. In Russia alone, of all 
Christian countries, is the old style still retained ; 
wherefore it becomes necessary for one writing 
in that country to any foreign correspondent, to 
set down his date thus : \f^ March, or '-^S^i^-' ; 

^•» U ^-.o-rr l.« 28th December I860 
or, it may be -9 ,1, January .86l ' 

' The old style is still retained in the accounts 
of Her Majesty's Treasury. This is why the 
Christmas dividends are not considered due till 
Twelfth Day, nor the midsummer dividends till 
the 5th of July ; and in the same way it is not 
until the 5th of April that Lady Day is supposed 
to arrive. There is another piece of antiquity 
visible in the public accounts. In old times, the 
year was held to begin on the 25th of March, 
and this usage is also still observed in the com- 
putations over which the Chancellor of the Ex- 
chequer presides. The consequence is, that the 
first day of the financial year is the 5th of April, 
being old Lady Day, and with that day the 
reckonings of our annual budgets begin and end.' 
— Times, February 16, 1861. 

The Day. 

There came the Day and Night, 

Riding together both with equal pace ; 
The one on palfrey black, the other white ; 
But Night had covered her uncomely face 
With a black veil, and held in hand a mace, 
On top whereof the moon and stars were pight, 
And sleep and darkness round about did trace : 
But Day chd bear upon his scejitre's height 
The goodly sun encompassed with beames bright. 


The day of nature, being strictly the time 
required for one rotation of the earth on its axis, 

is 23 hours, 56 minutes, 4 seconds, and 1 tenth of 
a second. In that time, a star comes round to 
appear in the same place where we had formerly 
seen it. But the earth, having an additional motion 
on its orbit round the sun, requires about 3 minutes, 
56 seconds more, or 24 hours in all, to have the 
sun brought round to appear at the same place ; 
in other words, for any place on the surface of 
the earth to come to the meridian. Thus arises 
the difference between a sidereal day and a solar 
day, between apparent and mean time, as will be 
more particularly explained elsewhere. 


Fixing our attention for the present upon the 
solar day, or day of mean time, let us remark in 
the first place that, amongst the nations of anti- 
qviity, there were no divisions of the day beyond 
what were indicated by sun-rise and sun-set. 
Even among the Eomans for many ages, the only 
point in the earth's daily revolution of which 
any public notice was taken was mid-day, which 
they used to announce by the sound of trumpet, 
whenever the sun was observed shining straight 
along between the Forum and a place called 
Graecostasis. To divide the day into a certain 
number of parts was, as has been remarked, an 
arbitrary arrangement, which only could be 
adopted when means had been invented of 
mechanically measuring time. We accordingly 
find no allusion to hours in the covirse of the 
Scriptural histories till we come to the Book of 
Daniel, who lived 552 years before Christ. 'Then 
Daniel, whose name was Belteshazzar, was aston- 
ished for one hour, and his thoughts troubled 
him.' The Jews and the Romans alike, on intro- 
ducing a division of the day into twenty-four 
hours, assigned equal numbers to day and night, 
without regard to the varying length of these 
portions of the solar day ; consequently, an hour 
was with them a varying quantity of time, accord- 
ing to the seasons and the latitude. Afterwards, 
the plan of an equal division was adopted, as was 
also that of dividing an hour into 60 minutes, 
and a minute into 60 seconds. 

Before the hour division was adopted, men 
could only speak of such vague natural divisions 
as morning and evening, forenoon and afternoon. 
or make a reference to their rneal-times. And 
these indications of time have still a certain hold 
upon us, partly because they are so natural and 
obvious, and partly through the effect of tradi- 
tion. All before dinner is, with us, still morn- 
ing^notwithstanding that the meal has nominally 
been postponed to an evening hour. The Scotch, 
long ago, had some terms of an original and 
poetical nature for certain periods of the day. 
Besides the dawhi for the dawn, they spoke of 
the skreigh o' day, q. d., the cry of the coming 
day. Their term for the dusk, the gloaming, has 
been much admired, and is making its way into 
use in England. 

Intimately connected with the day is the Week, 
a division of time which, whatever trace of a 
natural origin some may find in it, is certainly 
in a great measure arbitrary, since it does not 
consist in all countries of the same number of 
days. The week of Christian Europe, and of 
the Christian world generally, is, as is well 
known, a period of seven days, derived from the 
Jews, whose sacred scriptures represent it as a 
commemoration of the world having been created 
by God in six days, with one more on which 
he rested from his work, and which he therefore 
sanctified as a day of rest. 

Of weeks there are 52, and one day over, in 
ordinary years, or two days over in leap-years ; 
and hence the recurrence of a particiUar day of 
the month never falls in an immediately succeed- 
ing year on the same day of the week, but on 
one a day iu advance in the one case, and tAvo 
in the other. Every twenty-eight years, however, 

the days of the month and the days of the week 
once more coincide. 

The week, with its terminal day among the 
Jews, and its initial day among the Christians, 
observed as a day of rest and of devotion, is to 
be regarded as in the main a religious institution. 
Considering, however, that the days have only 
various names within the range of one week, 
and that by this period many of the ordinary 
operations of life are determined and arranged, 
it must be deemed, independently of its connec- 
tion with religion, a time-division of the highest 

While the Romans have directly given us the 
names of the months, we have immediately derived 
those of the days of the week from the Saxons. 
Both among the Romans, however, and the 
Saxons, the several days were dedicated to the 
chief national deities, and in the characters of 
these several sets of national deities there is, in 
nearly every instiince, an obvious analogy and 
correspondence ; so that the Roman names of the 
days have undergone little more than a transla- 
tion in the Saxon and consequently English 
names. Thus, the first day of the week is Sunnan- 
daeg with the Saxons ; IJies Sol is with the Ro- 
mans. Monday is 3fona7i-daeg 'with the Saxons ; 
Dies LiuicE with the Romans. Tuesday is, among 
the Saxons, Tues-daeg — that is, Tuesco's Day — 
from Tuesco, a mythic person, supposed to have 
been the first warlike leader of the Teutonic 
nations : among the Romans it was Dies Martis, 
the day of Mars, their god of war. The fourth 
day of the week was, among the Saxons, Woden s- 
daeg, the day of Woden, or Oden, another 
mythical being of high warlike reputation among 
the northern nations, and the nearest in character 
to the Roman god of war. Amongst the Romans, 
however, this day was Dies Iilercurii, Mercury's 
Day. The fifth day of the week, Thors-daeg of 
the Saxons, was dedicated to their god Thor, 
who, in his supremacy over other gods, and his 
attribute of the Thunderer, corresponds very 
exactly with Jupiter, whose day this was {Dies 
Jovis) among the Romans. Friday, dedicated to 
Venus among the Romans [Dies Veneris), was 
named by the Saxons, in honoiir of their corre- 
sponding deity (Flnga), Frigedaeg. The last day 
of the week took its Roman name of Dies Saturni, 
and its Saxon appellative of Seater-daeg, respect- 
ively from deities who approach each other in 

It may be remarked, that the modern German 
names of the days of the week correspond toler- 
ably well with the ancient Saxon : Sonntag, Sun- 
day ; Montag, Monday ; Dienstag, Tuesday ; 
MitUcocJie, raid-week day [this does not corre- 
spond, but Godenstag, which is less used, is 
Woden's day] ; Donnerstag, Thursday [this term, 
meaning the Thunderer's day, obviously corre- 
sponds with Thors-daeg] ; Freitag, Friday ; Sam- 
stag or Sonnahend, Saturday [the latter term 
means eve of Sunday]. The French names of 
the days of the week, on the other hand, as befits 
a language so largely framed on a Latin basis, 
are like those of ancient Rome : Dimanche [the 
Lord's Day], Lundi, Mardi, Mercredi, Jeudi, 
Vendredi, Samedi. 

With reference to the transference of honour 



from Eoman to Saxon deities in our names of tlie 
days of the week, a quaint poet of the last cen- 
tmy thus expresses himself: 

' The Sun still rules the week's initial day, 
The Moon o'er JNIonday yet retains the sway ; 
But Tuesdaj', which to Mars Avas whilom given, 
Is Tuesco's subject in the northern heaven ; 
And Woden hath the charge of Wednesday, 
Which did belong of old to Mercmy; 
And Jove himself surrenders his own day 
To Thor, a barbarous god of Saxon clay : 
Friday, who under Venus once did wield 
Lo\o's balmy sjiells, must now to Frea jdeld ; 
While Saturn stdl holds fast his day, but loses 
The Sabbath, which the central Sun abuses. 
Just like the days do persons change their masters. 
Those gods who them protect against disasters ; 
And souls which were to natal genii given. 
Belong to guardian angels up in heaven : 
And now each popish patron saint disgraces 
The ancient local Genius's strong places. 
Mufamus et mutamur — what's the odds 
If men do sometimes change their plaything gods ! 
The liual Jujiiter will e'er remain 
Unchanged, and always send us wind and rain. 
And warmth and cold, and day and shady night. 
Whose starry pole wdl shine with Cynthia's hght : 
Xor does it matter much, where Prudence reign, 
What other gods their empire shall retain.' 


While the day absolute is readily seen to be 
measured by a single rotation of our globe on its 
axis, the day practical is a very different affair. 
Every meridian has its own practical day, differ- 
ing from the practical day of every other meridian. 
That is to say, take any line of places extending 
between the poles; at the absolute moment of 
noon to them, it is midnight to the line of places 
on the antipodes, and some other hour of the day 
to each similar line of places between. Conse- 
quently, the denomination of a day — say the 1st 
of January — reigns over the earth during two of 
its rotations, or forty-eight hours. Another result 
is, that in a circumnavigation of the globe, you 
gain a day in reckoning by going eastward, and 
lose one by going westward— a fact that first was 
revealed to mankind at the conclusion of Magel- 
lan's voyage in September 1522, when the sur- 
viving mariners, finding themselves a day behind 
their countrymen, accused each other of sleeping 
or negligence, and thought such must have been 
the cause until the true one was explained. 

The mariners of enlightened European nations, 
m pursuing their explorations some centuries 
ago, everywhere carried with them their own 
nominal day, without regard to the slide which 
it performed in absolute time by their easterly 
and westerly movements. As they went east- 
ward, they found the expressed time always 
moving onward ; as they moved westwards, they 
found it falling backwards. Where the two lines 
of exploration met, there, of course, it was certain 
that the nominal days of the two parties would 
come to a decided discrepancy. The meeting 
was between Asia and America, and accordingly 
in that part of the world, the day is (say) Thurs- 

day in one place, and Wednesday in another not 
very far distant. Very oddlj^, the extreme west 
of the North American continent having been 
settled by Russians who have come from the 
west, while the rest was colonized by Europeans 
from the opposite direction, a different expression 
of the day prevails there ; while, again, Manilla, 
in Asia, having been taken possession of by 
Spaniards coming from the east, differs from the 
day of our own East Indies. Thus the discre- 
pancy overlaps a not inconsiderable space of the 
earth's surface. 

It arises as a natural consequence of these 
facts, that throughout the earth there is not a 
simultaneous but a consecutive keeping of the 
Sabbath. ' The inhabitants of Great Britain at 
eight o'clock on Sabbath morning, may realise 
the idea that at that hour there is a general 
Sabbath over the earth from the furthest east to 
the furthest west. The Hussians in America are 
finishing their latest vespers ; the Christians in 
our own colony of British Columbia are com- 
mencing their earliest matins. Among Christians 
throughout the world, the Sabbath is more or 
less advanced, except at Manilla, where it is 
commenced at about four o'clock p.m. on our 
Sabbath. At the first institution of the Sabbath 
in the Garden of Eden, it was finished in the 
space of twenty-four hours ; but now, since 
Christians are found in every meridian under the 
sun, the Sabbath, from its very commencement 
to its final close, extends to forty-eight, or rather 
to fifty-sis hours, by taking the abnormal state 
of Manilla into account.' * 


'Every animal, after a period of activity, 
becomes exhausted or fatigued, and a period of 
repose is necessary to recruit the weakened ener- 
gies and qualify the system for renewed exertion. 
. . . . In the animals whicli are denominated 
D'mrnal, including man, daylight is requisite for 
enabling them to provide their food, protection, 
and comfort, and to maintain that correspondence 
with one another which, in general, is requisite 
for the preservation of the social compact. Such 
animals rest during the night ; and in order to 
guard the system from the influence of a cold 
connected with the descending branch of the 
curve,t and peculiarly injurious to an exhausted 
frame, they retire to places of shelter, or 
assume particular positions, until the rising sun 
restores the requisite warmth, and enables the 
renovated body to renew the ordinary labours of 

' With the Nocturnal animals, on the other 
hand, the case is widely different. The daytime 
is the period of their repose; their eyes are 

* John Husband, in Notes and Queries, 2nd Series, 
vii. 51. 

t By the curve, the writer means a formula for ex- 
pressing in one wavy line the rises and falls of the ther- 
mometer in the course of a certain space of time. 


adapted for a scanty light, hearing and smelling 
co-operate, and the objects of their prey are most 
accessible. Even among diurnal animals, a cessa- 
tion of labour frequently takes place during the 
day. Some retire to the shade ; others seek for 
the coolness of a marsh or river, while many 
birds indulge in the pleasure of dusting them- 

' Crowing of the CocJc. The time-marking pro- 
pensities of the common cock during the night- 
season have long been the subject of remark, 
and conjectures as to the cause very freely 
indulged in. The bird, in ordinary circum- 
stances, begins to crow after midnight, and [he 
also crows] about daybreak, with usually one 
intermediate effort. It seems impossible to over- 
look the connection between the times of crowing 
and the minimum temperature of the night ; nor 
can the latter be viewed apart from the state of 
the dew-point, or maximum degree of dampness. 
Other circumstances, however, exercise an influ- 
ence, for it cannot be disputed that the times of 
crowing of different individuals are by no means 
similar, and that in certain states of the weather, 
especially before rain, the crowing is continued 
nearly all day. 

' Paroxysms of Disease. The attendants on a 
sick-bed are well aware, that the objects of their 
anxiety experience, in ordinary circumstances, 
the greatest amount of suffering between mid- 
night and daybreak, or the usual period of the 
crowing of the cock. If we contemplate a frame, 
at this period of the curve, weakened by disease, 
we shall see it exposed to a cold temperature 
against which it is ill qualified to contend. JSTor 
is this all ; for, while diy air accelerates evapora- 
tion, and usually induces a degree of chilliness 
on the skin, moist air never fails to produce the 
effect by its increased conducting power. The 
depressed temperature and the air approaching 
to saturation, at the lowest point of the curve, in 
their combined influences, act with painful energy, 
and require from an intelligent sick-nurse a 
due amount of counteracting arrangements.' 
— Dr. John Fleming on the Temperature of the 
Seasons. Edinburgh, 1852. 


Our arbitrary division of the year into twelve 
months, has manifestly taken its origin in the 
natural division determined by the moon's revo- 

The month of nature, or lunar revolution, is 
strictly 29 days, 12 hours, 44 minutes, 3 seconds ; 
and there are, of course, twelve such periods, and 
rather less than 11 days over, in a year. From 
an early period, there were efforts among some 
of the civilised nations to arrange the year in a 
division accordant with the revolutions of the 
moon ; but they were all strangely irregular till 
Julius Caesar reformed the Calendar, by estab- 
lishing the system of three years of 365 followed 
by one (bissextile) of 366 days, and decreed that 
the latter should he divided as follows : 


. 31 days 


30 „ 


. 31 „ 

Aprilis, .... 

30 „ 

Mains, .... 

. 31 , 

Junius, .... 

30 „ 

Quintilis (altered to Julius), 

. 31 „ 

Sextilis, .... 

30 „ 


• 31 „ 

October, .... 

30 „ 


• 31 „ 

December, .... 

30 „ 

365 „ 

The general idea of Csesar was, that the months 
should consist of 31 and 30 days alternately ; and 
this was effected in the bissextile or leap-year, 
consisting, as it did, of twelve times thirty with 
six over. In ordinary years, consisting of one 
day less, his arrangement gave 29 days to Febru- 
arius. Afterwards, his successor Augustus had 
the eighth of the series called after himself, and 
from vanity broke up the regularity of Caesar's 
arrangement by taking another day from Feb- 
ruary to add to his own month, that it might not 
be shorter than July ; a change which led to a 
shift of October and December for September 
and November as months of 31 days. In this 
arrangement, the year has since stood in aU 
Christian countries. 

The Roman names of the months, as settled by 
Augustus, have also been used in all Christian 
countries excepting Holland, where the following 
set of names prevails : 

January, . 
February, . 
March, . 
April, . 
May, . . 
June, . . 
July, . . 
August, . 
October, . 

chilly month, 
vegetation month, 
spring month, 
grass month, 
flower month, 
summer month, 
hay month, 
harvest month, 
autumn month, 
wine month, 
slaughter month, 
winter month. 

Lentmaand, . 
Grasmaand, . 
Oostmaand, . 
Wynmaand, . 

' These characteristic names of the months are 
the remains of the ancient Gaulish titles, which 
were also used by our Anglo-Saxon ancestors.' — 
Brady. * 

Amidst the heats of the Revolution, the French 
Convention, in October 1793, adopted a set of 
names for the months, somewhat like that kept 
up in Holland, their year standing thus : 

French Months. Signification. English Months. 





1. Vindemaire 

2. Brumaire, 

3. Frimaire, . 

, Vintage, . . . 
Foggy, . . . . 
Frosty or Sleety,. 

Sept. 22. 
Oct. 22. 
Nov. 21. 

4. Nivose, . . 

5. Pluviose, . 

6. Ventose, . 

Snowy, . . . . 
Rainy, .... 
Windy, . . . 

Dec. 21. 
Jan, 20. 
Feb. 19. 

7. Germinal, . 

8. Floreal, . 

9. Prairial, . 

Springing orBuddin 
Flowery, . . . 
Hay Harvest, 

g,Mar. 21. 
Apr. 20. 
May 20. 

10. I\Iessidor, . 

11. Thermidor, 

12. Fructidor, 

Corn Harvest, . . 



June 19. 
July 19. 
Aug. 18. 

Analysis of the Calendar. 


Five clays at the end, eorresponding to oiii- 
ITth, ISth. loth. 20th. and 21st of September, 
were supphnneiitarv. and named f;a}!s-ci!lofiide.'i, 
in honour of the lialf-naked p(^])idaee who took 
so prominent a part in the all'airs of the Ivcvohi- 
tion. At the same time, to extin<i;nisli all traces 
of relii^ion in the ealendar, each mouth was 
divided into three decades, or periods of ten 
days, wliereof the last was to be a holiday, the 
names of the days beinsj merely expressive of 
numbers — Primidi. Duodi, Tredi, &c. And this 
arrangement was actually maintained for several 
years, with only this peculiarity, that many of 
the peoj^le preferred holding the Christian Sunday 
as a weekly holiday. The plan was ridiculed by 
an English wit in the following professed trans- 
lation of the new French Calendar : 

' Autiunu — wheezy, sncczj', frcczy. 
Winter — shppy, drippy, nijipy. 
Spring — showery, flowery, bowery. 
Summer — hoppy, croppy, poppy.' 

' Thii'ty days hath September, 
April, June, and November; 
All the rest have thirty-one, 
But February twenty -eight alone. 
Except in leap-year, once in four, 
When Febi-uary has one day more.' 

Sir Walter Scott, in conversation with a friend, 
adverted jocularly to ' that ancient and respect- 
able, but unknown poet who had given us the 
invaluable formula, Thirty days hath September, 
&c.' It is truly a composition of considerable 
age, for it appears in a play entitled The Return 
from Parnassus, published in 1606, as well as in 
Winter's Camhridc/e Almanac for 1635. 

From what has here been stated iutroductorily, 
the reader will be, in some measure, prepared to 
enter on a treatment of the individual days of 
the year. Knowing how the length of the year 
has been determined, how it has been divided 
into months, and how many days have been 
assigned to each of these minor jjeriods, he will 
understand on what grounds men have proceeded 
in various seasonal observations, as w^eU as in 
various civil and religious arrangements. He 
has seen the basis, in short, of both the Calendar 
and the Almanac. 


It was a custom in ancient Eome, one which 
came down from a very early period, to proclaim 
the first of the month, and affix a notice of its 
occurrence on a public place, that the people 
might be apprised of the religious festivals in 
which they would have to bear a part. From 
the Greek verb KaXeco, I call or proclaim, this first 
of the month came to be styled the Xaloidce 
or Kalends, and Fasti Calcndares became a name 
for the placard. Subsequently, by a very natural 
process of ideas, a book for accounts referring to 
days was called Calendarium, a calendar; and 
from this we have derived our word, applicable 
to an exposition of time arrangements generally. 

At Pompeii there has been found an ancient 
calendar, cut upon a square block of marble, 
upon each side of which three months are regis- 
tered in per])eudicular columns, each headed by 
the proper sign of the zodiac. The information 
given is astronomical, agricultural, and religious. 
— Lib. E)it. Kiwtvl. — Pompeii, vol. ii. pp. 287-8. 

' The calendar, strictly speaking, refers to time 
in general — the almanac to only that portion of 
time which is comprehended in the annual revo- 
lution of the earth round the sun, and marking, 
by previous computation, numerous particulars 
of general interest and utility ; religious feasts ; 
public holidays ; the days of the week, corre- 
sponding with those of the month ; the increasing 
and decreasing length of the day ; the variations 
between true and solar time ; tables of the tides ; 
the sun's passage through the zodiac ; eclipses ; 
conjunctions and other motions of the planets, 
&c., all calculated for that portion of duration 
comprehended within the year. . . The calendar 
denotes the settled and national mode of regis- 
tering the course of time by the sun's progress : 
an almanac is a subsidiary manual formed out of 

that instrument The etymology of the 

word almanac has been, perhaps, the subject of 
more dispute than that of any term admitted 
into our language. With the single exception of 
Verstegau, all our lexicographers derive the first 
syllable al from the article definite of the Arabic, 
which signifies the; but the roots of the remaining 
syllables are variously accounted for, some taking 
it from the Greek jxavaKos, a lunary circle ; others 
from the Hebrew manach, to count ; Johnson 
derives it from the Greek /n?;/, a month ; but why 
the first syllable should be in one language, which 
these authorities agree in, and the two last in 
any other language, it is not easy to comprehend. 
Whether, therefore, the Saxons originally took 
their term from the Arabic, either wholly or in 
part, Verstegan seems the most to be relied on. 
" They," he says, alluding to our ancient Saxon 
ancestors, " used to engrave upon certaine squared 
sticks, about a foot in length, or shorter, or longer 
as they pleased, the courses of the moones of the 
whole yeere, whereby they could alwaies cer- 
tainely tell when the new moones, full moones, 
and changes should happen, as also their festivaU 
dales ; and such a carved stick they called an 
al-mon-aght ; that is to say, al-mon-heed, to wit, 
the regard or observation of all the moones ; and 
hence is derived the name of almanac." An 
instrument of this kind, of a very ancient date, is 
to be seen in St John's College at Cambridge, 
and there are still in the midland counties several 
remains of them.' — Brady. ^ 

%\t Clog gilmaitac. 

The simple-minded, yet for his time intelligent 
and inquiring Dr Eobert Plot, in his Natural His- 
tory of Staffordshire (folio, 1686), gives an account 
of what he calls the Clog Almanac, which he found 
in popular use in that and other northern coun- 
ties, but unknown further south, and which, from 
its being also used m Denmark, he conceived to 

* Analysis of the Calendar, i. 143. 


have come into England with our DanLsli invaders 
and settlers many centuries before. The clog 
bore the same relation to a printed almanac which 
the Exchequer tallies bore to a set of account 
books. It is a square stick of box, or any other 
liard wood, about eight inches long, fitted to be 
hung tip in the family parlour for common refer- 
ence, but sometimes carried as part of a walking- 
cane. Properly it was a perpetual almanac, 
designed mainly to shew the oundays and other 
fixed holidays of the year, each person being 
content, for use of the instrument, to observe on 
what day the year actually began, as compared 


with that represented on the clog ; so that, if 
they were various, a brief mental calculation of 
addition or subtraction was sufficient to enable 
him to attain what he desired to know. 

The entire series of days constituting the year 
was represented by notches running along the 
angles of the square block, each side and angle 
thus presenting three months ; the first day of a 
month was marked by a notch having a patulous 
stroke turned up from it, and each Sunday was dis- 

tinguished by a notch somewhat broader than usual. 
There were indications— but they are not easily 
described — for the Golden Number and the cycle 
of the moon. The feasts were denoted by symbols 
resembling hieroglyphics, in a manner which will 
be best understood by examples. Thus, a peculiarly 
shaped emblem referred to the Circumcisio Domini 
on the 1st of January. From the notch on the 
13th of that month proceeded a cross, as indicative 
of the episcopal rank of St Hilary ; from that on 
the 25th, an axe for St Paul, such being the in- 
strument of his martyrdom. Against St Valentine's 
Day was a true lover's knot, and against St David's 
Day (March 1), a harp, because the Welsh saint 
was accustomed on that instrument to praise God. 
The notch for the 2d of March (St Ceadda's Day) 
ended in a bough, indicating the hermit's life 
which Ceadda led in the woods near Lichfield. 
The 1st of May had a similar object with reference 
to the popular fete of hringmci home the May. A 
rake on St Barnaby's Day ("llth June) denoted 
hay harvest. St John the Baptist having been 
beheaded with a sword, his day (June 24) was 
graced with that implement. St Lawrence had 
his gridiron on the 10th of August, St Catherine 
her wheel on the 25th of the same month, and 
St Andrew his peculiar cross on the last of 
November. The 23d of November (St Clement's 
Day) was marked with a pot, in reference to the 
custom of going about that night begging drink 
to make merry with. For the Purification, An- 
nunciation, and all other feasts of the Virgin, 
there was a heart, though ' what it should import, 
relating to Mary, unless because iipon the shep- 
herds' relation of their vision, Mary is said to 
have kept all these things and pondered them in 
her heart, I cannot imagine,' says our author. 
For Christmas there was a horn, ' the ancient 
vessel in which the Danes used to wassail or drink 
healths, signifying to us that this is the time we 
ought to make merry, cornua exhaurienda votans, 
as Wormius will have it.' The learned writer 
adds : ' The marks for the greater feasts observed 
in the church have a large point set in the middle 
of them, and another over against the preceding 
day, if vigils or fasts were observed before them.' 

Mniim anir |!nukb ^Imaiiats. 

The history of written almanacs has not been 
traced further back than the second century of 
the Christian era. All that is known is, that the 
Greeks of Alexandria, in or soon after the time of 
Ptolemy (100-150 a.d.), constructed almanacs ; 
and the evidence for this fact is an account of 
Theon the commentator on Ptolemy, in a manu- 
script found by Delambre at Paris, in which the 
method of arranging them is explained, and the 
materials necessary for them pointed out. The 
Greek astronomers were not astrologers. That 
pretended science appears to have been introduced 
into Europe from the East, where it has prevailed 
from time immemorial. Lalande, an assiduous 
inquirer after early astronomical works, has stated 
that the most ancient almanacs of which he could 
find any express mention were those of Solomon 
Jarchus, published about 1150. Petrus de Dacia, 


about the year 1300. publislied au almanac, of 
-which there is a manuscript copy in the Savilian 
Library at Oxford. In this almanac the influence 
of the planets is thus stated : 

' Jupiter atque Venus boni, Saturnusque malignus ; 
Sol et Merciirius ciuu Luna simt mediocres.' 

The 'homo signorum' (man of the signs), so 
common in later almanacs, is conjectui'ed to have 
had its origin from Peter of Dacia. 

During the middle ages, Oxford was the seat of 
British science, mixed as that science occasionally 
was with astrology, alchemy, and other kinds of 
false learning; and from Oxford the standard 
almanacs emanated ; for instance, that of John 
Somers, wi-ittcn in 1380, of Nicolas de Lynna, 
published in 1386, and others. 

An almanac for 138G was printed as a literary 
curiosity in 1812. It is a small 8vo, and is thus 
introduced: 'Almanac for the Year 1386. Traii- 
scrihed verhatimfrom the Original Antique Illum- 
inated Manuscript in the Blach Letter ; omitting 
only the Monthly Calendars and some Tables. 
Containing many Curious Particulars illustrative 
of the Astronomy, Astrology, Chronology, History, 
Religious Tenets, and Theory and Practice of 
Medicine of the Age. Printed for the Proprietor 
by C. Stower, Hackney, 1812. The Manuscript 
to be disposed of. Apply to the printer. Entered 
at Stationers' Hall.' The contents are — 1. The 
Houses of the Planets and their Properties ; 2. 
The Exposition of the Signs ; 3. Chronicle of 
Events from the Birth of Cain ; 4. To find the 
Prime Numbers ; 5. Short Notes on Medicine ; 
6. On Blood-letting ; 7. A Description of the 
Table of Signs and Movable Eeasts ; 8. Quanti- 
tates Diei Artificialis. Of the information given 
under the head, ' Exposycion of the Synes,' the 
following extract may serve as a specimen : 'Aqua- 
rius es a syne in the whilk the son es in Jan'', 
and in that moneth are 7 plyos [pluviose] dayes, 
the 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 15, 19, and if thoner is heard in 
that moneth, it betokens grete wynde, mykel 
fridte, and batel. Aquarius is bote, moyste, 
sanguyne, and of that ayre ites gode to byg cas- 
tellis, or hous, or to wed.' The clumsy method 
of expressing numbers of more than two figures, 
shews that the Arabic notation had been but 
recently introduced, and was then imperfectly 
understood ; for instance, 52mcc20 is put for 

Almanacs in manuscript of the fifteenth century 
are not uncommon. In the library at Lambeth 
Palace there is one dated 1460, at the end of 
which is a table of eclipses from 1460 to 1481. 
There is a very beautiful calendar in the library 
of the University of Cambridge, with the date of 

The first almanac printed in Europe was prob- 
ably the Kalendarium Novum, by Eegiomontanus, 
calculated for the three years 1475, 1494, and 1513. 
It was published at Buda, in Hungary. Though 
it simply contained the eclipses and the places of 
the planets for the respective years, it was sold, 
it is said, for ten crowns of gold, and the whole 
impression was soon disposed of in Hungary, 
Germany, Italy, France, and England. 

The fijst almanac known to have been printed 
in England was the Sheapheards Kalendar, trans- 

lated from the French, and printed by Eichard 
Pynson in 1497. It contains a large quantity of 
extraneous matter. As to the general influence 
of the celestial bodies, the reader is informed that 

' Satiu-ne is hyest and coldest, being full old, 
And Mars with his bluddy swerde ever ready to 

Sol and Luna is half good and half iU.' 

Each month introduces itself with a description 
in verse. January may be given as an example : 

' Called I am Januyere the colde. 
In Christmas season good fyre I love. 
YoDge Jesii, that sometime Judas solde, 
In me was circiuncised for man's behove. 
Three kinges sought the sonne of God above ; 
They kneeled downe, and dyd him homage, -with love 
To God their Lorde that is mans own brother.' 

Another very early printed almanac, of unusu- 
ally small size, was exhibited to the Society of 
Antiquaries on the 16th of June 1842. Dr Bliss 
brought it with him from Oxford. It had been 
found by a friend of Dr Bliss at Edinburgh, in 
an old chest, and had been transmitted to him as 
a present to the Bodleian Library. Its dimen- 
sions were 2| inches by 2 inches, and it consisted 
of fifteen leaves. The title in black letter, was 
Almanacke for XII. Yere. On the third leaf, 
' Lately corrected and emprynted in the Flete- 
strete by Wynkyn de Worde. In the yere of 
the reyne of our most redoubted sovereayne Lorde 
Einge Henry the VII.' 

Almanacs became common on the continent 
before the end of the fifteenth century, but were 
not in general use in England till about the 
middle of the sixteenth. Skilful mathematicians 
were employed in. constructing the astronomical 
part of the almanacs, but the astrologers supplied 
the supposed planetary influences and the pre- 
dictions as to the weather and other interesting 
matters, which were required to render them 
attractive to the popular mind. The title-pages 
of two or three of these early almanacs will sutfi- 
ciently indicate the nature of their contents. 

A Prognossicacion and an Almanack fastened 
together, declaring the Disj>ocission of the People 
and. also of the IVether, tvith certain Electyons and 
Tymes chosen both for Phisihe and Surgerye, and 
for the husbandman. And also for jflawekyng, 
Huntyng, Fishyng, and Foulynge, according to 
the 8cie7ice of Astronomy, made for the Yeare of 
our lord God M.D.L., Calculedfor the Merydyan 
of Yorhe, and practiced by Anthony AsTcham. At 
the end, ' Imprynted at London, in Flete Strete, 
at the Signe of the George, next to SayntDunstan's 
Church, by Wyllyam Powell, cum privilegio ad 
imprimendum solum.' Then follows the Prognos- 
tication, the title-page to which is as follows : 
A Prognossicacion for the Yere of our Lord 
M.CCCCC.L., Calculed upon the Merydyan of 
the Toivne of Amvarpe and the Country thereabout, 
by Master Peter of Moorbeehe, Doctour in Phy- 
siclce of the same Towne, whereunto is added the 
Judgment of M. Cornelius Schute, Doctour in 
Physicke of the Towne of Bruges in Flanders, 
upon and concerning the Disposicion, Fstate, and 
Condicion of certaine Prynces, Contreys, and 
Regions, for the present Yere, gathered outeofhis 
Prognossicacion for the same Yere. Translated 


oute of Duck into Englyshe hy William Harrys. 
At the end, ' Imprynted at London Ijy John Daye, 
dwellyne over Aldersgate, and Wyllyam Seres, 
dwellyne in Peter CoUedge. These Sokes are to 
be sold at the Newe Shop by the Lytle Conduyte 
in Chepesyde.' 

' An AlmanacTce and Prognosticatyon for the 
Yeare of our Lorde MDLI., practysed by Simon 
Senringius and Lodotcyke Boyard, Doctors in 
Physike aiid Astronomye, Sfc. At Worcester in 
the Hygh Strete.' 

' A Newe Almanacke and Prognostication, Col- 
lected for the Yere of our Lord MDL VIII. , toherein 
is expressed the Change and Full of the Moone, 
with their Quarters. The Varietie of the Ayre, 
and also of the Windes throughout the whole Yere, 
with Infortunate Times to Pie and Sell, take 
Medicine, Soive, Plant, and Journey, Sfc. Made 
for the Meridian of Norioich and Pole Arcticke 
LII. Degrees, and serving for all England. By 
William Kenningham, Physician. Imprynted at 
London by Jokn Daye, dwelling over Alders- 

Leonard Digges, a mathematician of some emi- 
nence, and the author of two or three practical 
treatises on geometiy and mensuration, was also 
the author of a Prognosticatioii,v;hich. was several 
times reprinted under his own superintendence, 
and that of his son, Thomas Digges.* It is not 
properly an almanac, but a sort of companion 
to the almanac, a collection of astrological ma- 
terials, to be used by almanac-makers, or by the 
public generally. It is entitled A Prognostication 
everlasti7ig of Right Good Effect, fructfully aug- 
mented hy the Author, containing Plaine, Briefe, 
Pleasant, Chosen Rules to judge the Weather 
by the Sunne, 3Ioon, Star res, Comets, Rainboto, 
Thunder, Cloicdes, with other Extraordinary 
Tokens, not omitting the Aspects of Planets, with 
a Briefe Judgement for ever, of Plentie, lacke, 
Sicknes, Dearth, Warres, t^'c, opening also many 
naturall causes ^vorthie to be knoione. To these and 
other now at the last are joined divers generall 
pleasant Tables, toith many compendioxis Rules, 
easie to be had in memorie, manifolde wayes pro- 
fitable to all men of understanding. Published 
by Leonard Digges. Lately Corrected and Aug- 
mented by Thomas Digges, his sonne. London, 
1605.' The first edition was published in 1553 ; 
the second edition, in 1555, was ' fructfully aug- 
mented,' and was ' imprynted at London within 
the Blacke Fryars.' In his preface he thus 
discourses concerning the influence of the stars 
(the spelling modernised) : ' What meteoroscoper, 
yea, who, learned in matters astronomical, noteth 
the great effects at the rising of the star called 
the Little Dog ? Truly, the consent of the most 
learned do agi'ee of his force. Yea, Pliny, in his 
History of Nature, affirms the seas to be then 
most fierce, wines to flow in cellars, standing 
waters to move, dogs inclined to madness. Fur- 
ther, these constellations rising — Orion, Arcturus, 
Corona — provoke tempestuous weather ; the Kid 
and Goat, winds ; Hyades, rain. What meteor- 
ologer consenteth not to the great alteration and 
mutation of air at the conjunction, opposition, or 

* L. T)\gg(>i' 9, Prognostication was published 1553, 1555, 
1556, 1567, 1576, 1578, 1605. 

quadrant aspect of Saturn with either two lights P 
Who is ignorant, though poorly skilled in astro- 
nomy, that Jupiter, with Mercury or with the sun, 
enforces rage of winds ? What is he that perceives 
not the fearfvil thunders, lightnings, and rains at 
the meeting of Mars and Venus, or Jupiter and 
Mars ? Desist, for shame, to oppugn these judg- 
ments so strongly authorised. All truth, all 
experience, a multitude of infallible grounded 
rules, are against him.' 

In France, a decree of Henry III., in 1579, 
forbade all makers of almanacs to prophesy, di- 
rectly or indirectly, concerning affairs either of 
the state or of individuals. No such law was ever 
enacted in England. On the contrary, James I., 
allowing the liberty of prophesying to continue 
as before, granted a monopoly of the publication 
of almanacs to the two Universities and the Com- 
pany of Stationers. The Universities, however, 
accepted an annuity from their colleagues, and 
relinquished any active exercise of their privilege. 
Under the patronage of the Stationers' Company, 
astrology continued to flourish. 

Almanac-making, before this time,' had become 
a profession, the members of which generally 
styled themselves Philomaths, by which they 
probably meant that they were fond of mathema- 
tical science ; and the astrologers had formed 
themselves into a company, who had an annual 
dinner, which Ashmole, in his Diary, mentions 
having attended during several successive years. 
The Stationers' Company were not absolutely 
exclusive in their preference for astrological al- 
manacs. Whilst they furnished an ample supply 
for the credulous, they were willing also to sell 
what woiJd suit the taste of the sceptical ; for 
Allstree's Almanac in 1624 calls the supposed 
influence of the planets and stars on the human 
body ' heathenish,' and dissuades from astrology 
in the following doggrel lines : 

' Let every philomathy 
Leave lying astrology ; 
And write true astronomy, 
And I '11 bear you company.' 

Thomas Decker, at a somewhat earlier period, 
evidently intending to ridicule the predictions of 
the almanac-m^akers, published Tiie Ravens Al- 
manacke. foretelling of a Plague, Famine, and 
Civill Warr, that shall happen this present yere, 
1609. With certaine Remedies, Rules and Receipts, 
&c. It is dedicated ' To the Lyons of the Wood, 
to the AVilde Buckes of the Forrest, to the Harts 
of the Field, and to the whole country that are 
brought up wisely to prove Guls, and are born 
rich to dye Beggars.' By the Lyons, Buckes, and 
Harts, are meant the courtiers and gallants, or 
' fast young men ' of the time. 

There was perhaps no period in which the pro- 
phetic almanacs were more eagerly purchased 
than during the civil wars of Charles I. and the 
parliament. The notorious William Lilly was 
one of the most influential of the astrologers and 
abnanac-makers at that time, and in his autobio- 
graphy not only exhibits a picture of himself 
little creditable to him, but furnishes portraits 
of several other almanac-makers of the seven- 
teenth century, Dr Dee, Dr Forman, Booker, 
Winder, Kelly, Evans, &c. The character of 


Sidropliol in Jlitdihras lias been supposed to re- 
present Lilly, but probably Butler merely meant 
to hold up to ridicule and seorn the class of persons 
of whom Lilly may be regarded as a type. He 
was evidently a crafty, time-serving knave, who 
made a good living out of the credulity of his 
countrvmeu. He was consulted as an astrologer 
about "the aflairs of the king, but afterwards, in 
1G15. when the royal cause began to decline, he 
became one of the" parliamentary party. He was 
born in 1G02. was educated at the grammar-school 
of Ashby-de-la-Zoueh, came to London when he 
was about eighteen years of age, aud spent the 
latter part of his life at Hersham, near Walton- 
on-Thames. where he died in 1G81. In the chapter 
of his autobiography, Of the Manner Jioto I came 
to London, he states that he was engaged as a 
servant in the house of Mr Gilbert Wright, who 
could neither read nor write, lived upon his annual 
rents, and was of no calling or profession. He 
states : ' jMy work was to go before my uiaster to 
chiu-ch ; to attend my master when he went 
abroad ; to make clean his shoes ; sweep the street ; 
help to drive bucks when he washed ; fetch water 
in a tub from the Thames (I have helped to carry 
eighteen tubs of water in one morning) ; weed the 
garden. All manner of di'udgeries I performed, 

scraped trenchers,' &c ' In 1644, 1 published 

Merllntts AngUcus Junior about April. In that 
year I published Frophetical Merlin, and had 
eight pounds for the copy.' Alluding to the comet 
which appeared in 1677, LiUy says : ' All comets 
signify wars, terrors, and strange events in the 
world.' He gives a curious explanation of the 
prophetic nature of these bodies : ' The spirits, 
well knowing what accidents shall come to pass, 
do form a star or comet, and give it what figure 
or shape they please, aud cause its motion through 
the air, that people might behold it, and thence 
draw a signification of its events.' Further, a 
comet appearing in the sign Taurus portends 
' mortality to the greater part of cattle, as horses, 
oxen, cows, &c.,' and also ' prodigious shipwrecks, 
damage in fisheries, monstrous floods, and de- 
struction of fruit by caterpillars and other ver- 
mine.' LUly, in his autobiography, appears on 
one occasion to have acted in one of the meanest 
of capacities. There is no doubt that he was em- 
ployed as a spy ; but the chief source of income 
to Lilly, and to most of the other astrologers, was 
probably what was called casting nativities, and 
foretelling, or rather foreshadowing, the future 
events of the lives of individuals ; in fact, fortune- 

It has been mentioned before that the Station- 
ers' Company had no objection to supply an 
almanac to the sceptics and scoffers who treated 
the celestial science with ridicule and contempt. 
Such an almanac was ' Poor Rohin, 1664 : an 
Almanack after a Neio Fashion, wherein the Reader 
ma}) see (if he he not hlinde) many Remarkable 
Tilings worthy of Ohservation, containing a Two- 
fold Kalender — viz., the Julian or English, and 
the Roundheads or Fanatics, with their several 
Saints' Daies, and Observations upon every Month. 
"Written by Poor Bobin, Knight of the Burnt 
Island, a well-wisher to the Mathematics ; calcu- 
lated for the Meridian of Saffron Walden, where 
the Pole is elevated 52 degrees and 6 minutes 

above the Horizon. Printed for the Company of 

Poor Rohin has four lines of verse at the head 
of each of the odd pages of the Calendar. For 
instance, under January, we have 

' Now blustering Boreas sends out of his quiver 
Arrows of snow and hail, which makes men shiver; 
And though we hate sects and their vile partakers, 
Yet those who want tires must now tiu-n Quakers.' 

As a specimen of his humour in prose, under 
January we are told that 'there will be much 
frost and cold weather in Greenland.' Under 
February, ' We may expect some showers of rain 
this month, or the next, or the next after that, 
or else we shaU have a very dry spring.' Poor 
Rohin first appeared in 1663. Eobert Herrick, 
the poet, is said to have assisted in the compilation 
of the early numbers. It was not discontinued 
till 1828. The humour of the whole series was 
generally coarse, with little of originality, and a 
great deal of indecency. 

In 1664, John Evelyn published his Kalen- 
darium Hortense, the first Gardener's Almanac, 
containing directions for the employment of each 
month. This was dedicated to the poet Cowley, 
who acknowledged the compliment in one of his 
best pieces, entitled ' The Garden.' It was per- 
haps in this almanac that there appeared a sage 
counsel, to which Sir Walter Scott somewhere 
alludes, as being presented in an almanac of 
Charles II. 's time — namely, that every man ought 
for his health's sake to take a country walk of a 
mUe, every morning before breakfast — ' and, if 
possible, let it he itpon your own ground.' 

The next almanac-maker to whom the attention 
of the public was particularly directed was John 
Partridge, chiefly in consequence of Swift's pre- 
tended prophecy of his death. Partridge was 
born in 1644. and died in 1714. He was brought 
up to the trade of a shoemaker, which he practised 
in Covent Garden in 1680 ; but having acquired 
some knowledge of Latin, astronomy, and astro- 
logy, he at length published an almanac. Swift 
began his humorous attacks by Predictions for 
the Year 1708, wherein the Month and the Day of 
the Month are set down, the Persons named, and 
the Great Actions and Events of Next Year ^lar- 
ticularly related as they will come to pass. Written 
to prevent the People of England from heing farther 
imposed iipon hy the Vulgar Almanac-mahers. 
After discussing with much gravity the subject of 
almanac-making, and censuring the almanac- 
makers for their methods of proceeding, he con- 
tinues as follows : ' But now it is time to proceed 
to my predictions, which I have begun to calcu- 
late from the time the sun enters Aries, and this 
I take to be properly the beginning of the natural 
year. I pursue them to the time when he enters 
Libra, or somewhat more, which is the busy time 
of the year ; the remainder I have not yet ad- 
justed,' &c. . . . ' My first prediction is but a trifle, 
yet I will mention it to shew how ignorant those 
sottish pretenders to astronomy are in their own 
concerns. It relates to Partridge the almanac- 
maker. I have consulted the star of his nativity 
by my own rules, and find he will infallibly die 
on the 29th of March next, about eleven at night, 
of a raging fever ; therefore, I advise him to con- 


Bider of it, and settle liis affairs in time.' 
Partridge, after the 29tli of March, publicly 
denied that he had died, which increased the fun, 
and the game was kept up in The Taller. Swift 
wrote An Elecjy on the Supposed Death of Par- 
tridge, the Almanac-maker, followed by 


Here, five foot deep, lies on his Lack 
A cobbler, starmonger, and quack. 
Who to the stars, in pure good-will, 
Does to his best look upward still. 
Weep, all ye customers, that use 
His pills, his almanacs, or shoes ; 
And you that chd yoiu- fortunes seek. 
Step to his gi-ave but once a week. 
This earth, which bears his body's print, 
You '11 find has so much virtue in 't. 
That I durst pawn my ears 'twill tell 
Whate'er concerns you fidl as well 
In i)hysic, stolen goods, or love, 
As he himself could when above.' 

Partridge, having studied physic as well as astro- 
logy, in 1682 styled himself ' Physician to his 
Majesty,' and was one of the sworn physicians of 
the court, but never attended nor received any 
salary. His real epitaph, and a list of some of his 
works, are printed by Granger in his Biographical 
History. Partridge wrote a life of his contem- 
porary almanac-maker, John Gadbury. 

The Vox Stellarum of Francis Moore was the 
most successful of the predicting almanacs. There 
has been much doubt as to whether Francis Moore 
was a real person, or only a pseudonym. A com- 
munication to Notes and Queries, vol. iii. p. 466. 
states that ' Francis Moore, physician, was one of 
the many quack doctors who duped the credulous 
in the latter period of the seventeenth century. 
He practised in Westminster.* In all probability, 
then, as in our own time, the publication of an 
almanac was to act as an advertisement of his 
healing powers, &c. Cookson, Salmon, Gadbury, 
Andrews, Tanner, Coley, Partridge, &c., were all 
predecessors, and were students in physic and 
astrology. Moore's Almanac appears to be a per- 
fect copy of Tanner's, which appeared in 1656, 
forty-two years prior to the appearance of Moore's. 
The portrait in Knight's London is certainly 
imaginary. There is a genuine and certainly 
very characteristic portrait, now of considerable 
rarity, representing him as a fat-faced man. in a 
wig and large neckcloth, inscribed "Francis 
Moore, born in Bridgenorth, in the county of 
Salop, the 29th of January 1656-7. John Dra- 
pentier, delin. et sculp." Moore appears to have 
been succeeded as compiler of the^/ma«ac by Mr 
Henry Andrews, who was born in 1744, and died 
at Poyston, Herts, in 1820. " Andrews was as- 
tronomical calculator to the Board of Longitude, 
and for manj^ years corresponded with Maskelyne 

* Francis Moore, in his Almanac for 1711, dates ' from 
the ijign of the Old Lilly, near the Old Barge House, in 
Christ Cliurch Parish, Southwark, July 19, 1710.' Then 
follows an advertisement in wliich he undertakes to cure 
diseases. Lysons mentions him as one of the remarkable 
men who, at different periods, resided at Lambeth, and 
says that his house was in Calcott's Alley, High Street, 
then called Back Lane, where he practised as astrologer, 
physician, and schoolmaster. 

and other eminent men." ' — Notes and Queries, 
vol. iv. p. 74. Mr Robert Cole, in a subsequent 
communication to Notes and Queries, vol. iv. 
p. 162. states that he had purchased from Mr 
William Henry Andrews of Royston, son of 
Henry Andrews, the whole of the father's manu- 
scripts, consisting of astronomical and astrolo- 
gical calculations, with a mass of very curious 
letters from persons desirous of having their 
nativities cast. Mr W. H. Andrews, in a letter 
addressed to Mr Cole, says : ' My father's calcu- 
lations. &c., for 'Moore's Almanac continued during 
a period of forty-three years, and although, 
through his great talent and management, he in- 
creased the sale of that work from 100,000 to 
500,000. yet, strange to say, aU he received for 
his services was £25 per annum.' 

The Ladies' Diary, one of the most respectable 
of the English almanacs of the eighteenth cen- 
tury, was commenced in 1704. Disclaiming as- 
trology-, prognostications, and quackery, the 
editor undertook to introduce the fair sex to the 
study of mathematics as a source of entertain- 
ment as well as instruction. Success was hardly 
to have been expected from such a speculation ; 
but. by presenting mathematical questions as 
versified enigmas, with the answers in a similar 
form, by giving receipts for cookery and pre- 
serving, biographies of celebrated women, and 
other ' entertaining particulars peculiarly adapted 
for the use and diversion of the fair sex.' the 
success of the work was secured; so that, though 
the Gentleman's Diary was brought out in 1741 
as a rival publication, the Ladies' Diary continued 
to circulate independently till 1841, when it was 
incorporated with the Gentleman's Diary. The 
projector and first editor of the Ladies' Diary, 
was John Tipper, a schoolmaster at Coventry. 

In 1733, Benjamin Franklin published in the 
city of Philadelphia the first number of his 
almanac \xnder the fictitious name of Richard 
Saunders. It was commonly called Poor Rich- 
ard's Almanac, and was continued by Franklin 
about twenty-five years. It contained the usual 
astronomical information, ' besides many pleasant 
and witty verses, jests, and sayings.' The little 
spaces that occurred between the remarkable days 
of the calendar he filled with proverbial sen- 
tences inculcating industry and frugality. In 
1757, he made a selection from these proverbial 
sentences, which he formed into a connected 
discourse, and prefixed to the almanac, as the 
address of a prudent old man to the people attend- 
ing an auction. This discourse was afterwards pub- 
lished as a small tract, under the title of The Way 
to Wealth, and had an immense circulation in 
America and England. At the sale of the In- 
graham Library, in Philadelphia, an original 
Poor Richard's Almanac sold for fifty-two dollars. 
— Notes and Queries, vol. xii. p. 143. 

In 1775, the legal monopoly of the Stationers' 
Company was destroyed by a decision of the 
Court of Common Pleas, in the case of Thomas 
Carnan, a bookseller, who had invaded their ex- 
clusive right. Lord North, in 1779, brought in 
a bill to renew and legalise the Company's 
privilege, but, after an able argument by 
Erskine in favour of the public, the minister's 
bill was rejected. The defeated monopolists, 



however, still kept possession of the trade, hy 
bribine: their eompetitors. and by their influence 
of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Know- 
ledge was pviblished. and in the course of a few 
years the astrological portions disappeared from 
the other almanacs. Several new ones, contain- 
ing valuable information, have since been pre- 
sented to the public. But the measure which 
led to the improvement and great increase of 
almanacs, was the entire repeal of the stamp- 
duties thereon, by 3 and 4 Will. IV. c. 37, 13th 
August 1831. Ilitherto, the stamp-duty upon 
each Moore's Almanac was lod. 

lu a letter from Ivobert Heath, of Upnor 
Castle, date about 1753, the sheet almanac of the 
Stationers' Company is stated to sell ' 175,000, 
and they give three guineas for the copy ; Moore's 
sells 75,000, and they give five guineas for the 
copy ; the Ladi/ sells above 30,000, and they 
give ten guineas, the most copy-money of any 
other. The Gentleman's copy is three guineas, 
sells 7000. Here are a fine company to write 
for.' In 1751, he describes White, who com- 
putes an ephemeris for the Stationers' Company, 
as living at Grantham, in Lincolnshire. 

The Stationers' Company present annually to 
the Archbishop of Canterbury copies of their 
almanacs, which custom originated as follows : 
AYhen Tenison was archbishop, a near relation 
of his, who was master of the Stationers' Com- 
pany, thought it a compliment to call at Lambeth 
Palace in the Company's stately barge, on the 
morning of Lord Mayor's Day, when the arch- 
bishop sent out a pint of wine for each liveryman, 
with bread and cheese and hot-spiced ale for the 
watermen and attendants ; and this grew into a 
settled custom ; the Stationers' Company acknow- 
ledging the hospitality by presenting to the 
archbishop a copy of the several almanacs which 
they publish. The wine was served in small two- 
handled wooden bowls, or small cups, which were 
provided yearly by the Company. But since the 
abolition of the procession by water on Lord 
Mayor's Day, this custom has been discontinued. 

Southey, in the Doctor, relates the following 
legal anecdote, to exemplify how necessary it is 
upon any important occasion to scrutinise the 
accuracy of a statement before it is taken on 
trust. A fellow was tried at the Old BaUey for 
highway robbery, and the prosecutor swore 
positively to him, saying he had seen his face 
distinctly, for it was a bright moonlight night. 
The counsel for the prisoner cross-questioned the 
man so as to make him repeat that assertion, and 
insist upon it. He then affirmed that this was a 
most important circumstance, and a most fortu- 
nate one for the prisoner at the bar : because the 
night on which the alleged robbery was said to 
have been committed was one in which there had 
been no moon: it was then during the dark 
quarter ! In proof of this he handed an almanac 
to the bench, and the prisoner was acquitted 
accordingly. The prosecutor, however, had 
stated everything tnily ; and it was known 
afterwards that the almanac with which the 
coymsel came provided, had been prepared and 
printed for the occasion. 

The same writer remembers when a country- 
man had walked to the nearest large town, 
thirty miles distant, for the express purpose of 
seeing an almanac, the first that had been heard 
of in those parts. His inquiring neighbours 
crowded round the man on his return. ' Well, 
well,' said he, ' I know not; it maffles and talks. 
But all I could make out is, that Collop Monday 
falls on a Tuesday next year.' 


Tiicre is a father with twice six sons ; these 
sons have thirty daughters a piece, party-coloured, 
having one cheek white and the other black, who 
never see each other's face, nor live above twenty- 
four hours. 


Among those who have contributed to the 
advancement of learning, many have risen to 
eminence in opposition to all the obstacles which 
external circumstances could place in their way, 
amidst the tumults of business, the distresses of 
poverty, or the dissipation of a wandering and 
unsettled state. A great part of the life of 
Erasmus was one continued peregrination : ill 
supplied with the gifts of fortune, and led from 
city to city, and from kingdom to kingdom, by 
the hopes of patrons and preferment — hopes 
which always flattered and always deceived him 
— he yet found means, by unshaken constancy 
and a vigilant improvement of those hours which, 
in the midst of the most restless activity, will 
remain unengaged, to write more than another 
in the same condition could have hoped to read. 
Compelled by want to attendance and solicitation, 
and so much versed in common life that he has 
transmitted to us the most perfect delineation of 
the manners of his age, he joined to his know- 
ledge of the world such apj)lication to books, 
that he will stand for ever in the first rank of 
literary heroes. Now, this proficiency he suffi- 
ciently discovers by informing us that the Praise 
of Folly, one of "his most celebrated perform- 
ances, was composed by him on the road to 
Italy, lest the hours which he was obliged to 
spend on horseback should be tattled away, with- 
out regard to literature. — Johnson. 

The Chancellor D'Aguesseau, finding that his 
wife always kept him waiting a quarter of an 
hour after the dinner-bell had rung, resolved to 
devote the time to writing a book on jurispru- 
dence, and, putting the project in execution, in 
course of time produced a work in four quarto 

Many persons thoughtlessly waste their own 
time simultaneously with that of others. Lord 
Sandwich, when he presided at the Board of 
Admiralty, paid no attention to any memorial 
that extended beyond a single page. ' If any 
man,' he said, ' will draw up his case, and will 
put his name to the bottom of the first page, I 
will give him an immediate reply; where he 
compels me to turn over the page, he must wait 
my pleasure.' 

came old January, WTapped well 

In many weeds to keep the cold away ; 

Yet did he quake and Cjuiver like to ciuell, 

And blowe his nayles to warm them if he may ; 

For they were nimibed with holding aU the daj' 

An hatchet keene, with which he f eUed wood, 

And from the trees did lop the needlesse spray ; 

Upon an huge great Earth-pot Steane he stood, 

From whose wide mouth there flowed forth the Romans flood. 




is the open gate 
of the year, shut 
until the short- 
est clay passed, 
but now open to let in the lengthen- 
ing daylight, which will soon fall 
upon dim patches of pale green, that 
shew where spring is still, sleeping. 
Sometimes between the hoary pillars — when 
the winter is mild — a few wan snowdrops 
will peep out and catch the faint sunlight which 

streams in coldly through, tlie opening gateway, 
like timid messengers sent to see if spring has 
yet stirred from her long sleep. But it is yet 
too early for the hardy crocus to throw its 
banded gold along the pathway ; and as for 
the ' rathe primrose,' it sits huddled up in its 
little cloak of green, or is seen peeping through its 
half-closed yellow eye, as if watching the snow- 
flakes as they fall. Only the red-breasted robin 
— his heart filled with hope — sings his cheerful 
song on the naked hawthorn spray, through which 
the tiny buds are striving to break forth, like a 



lierald proclaiming glad tidings, and making 
kno\vn. tar and wide, that erelong ' the winter 
■will be over and gone,' and the moonlight-coloured 
May-blossoms once again ap]iear. 

All aronnd, as yet. the landscape is barren and 
dreary. In the eiirly morning, the withered sedge 
by the Avater-coursos is silvered over with hoary 
rime ; and if you handle the frosted ilag-rushes, 
they seem to "cut like swords. Huddled up like 
balls of feathers, the fieldfares sit in the leafless 
hedijes. as if they had no heart to breakfast off 
the few hard, black, withered berries which still 
dangle in the wintry wind. Amid the cold frozen 
turnips, the huugiy sheep look up and bleat 
pitifully ; and if the cry of an early lamb ftills on 
your ear, it makes the heart sorrowful only to 
listen to it. You pass the village churchyard, 
and almost shiver to think that the very dead 
who lie there must be pierced by the cold, for 
there is not even a crimson hip or haw to give a 
look of warmth to the stark hedges, through 
which the bleak wind whistles. Around the frozen 
pond the cattle assemble, lowing every now and 
then, as if impatient, and looking backward for 
the coming of the herdsman to break the ice. Even 
the nose of cherry-cheeked Patty looks blue, as 
she issues from the snow-covered cowshed with 
the smoking milk-pail on her head. There is no 
sound of the voices of village children in the 
winding lanes — nothing but the creaking of the 
old carrier's cart along the frost-bound road, 
and you pity the old wife who sits peeping out 
between the opening of the tilt, on her way to the 
neighbouring market-town. The very dog walks 
under the cart in silence, as if to avail himself of 
the little shelter it affords, instead of frisking and 
barking beside his master, as he does when ' the 
leaves are green and long.' There is a dull, leaden 
look about the sky, and you have no wish to 
climb the hill-top on which those gray clouds 
hang gloomily. You feel sorry for the poor donkey 
that stands hanging his head under the guide- 
post, and wish there were flies about to make him 
whisk his ears, and not leave him altogether 
motionless. The ' Jolly Farmer ' swings on his 
creaking sign before the road-side alehouse, like 
the bones of a murderer in his gibbet-irons ; and 
instead of entering the house, you hurry past the 
closed door, resolved to warm yourself by walking 
quicker, for you think a glass of ale must be but 
cold drink on such a morning. The old ostler 
seems bent double through cold, as he stands 
with his hands in his pockets, and his pitchfork 
thrust into the smoking manure-heap that litters 
the stable-yard. 

A walk in the country on a fine frosty morning 
in Januarj' gives the blood a healthy circulation, 
and sets a man wondering why so many sit 
' croodleing ' over the fire at such a season. The 
trees, covered with hoar-frost, are beautiful to 
look upon, and the grass bending beneath its 
weight seems laden with crystal ; while in the 
distance the hedges seem sheeted with May blos- 
soms, so thickly, that you might fancy there was 
not room enough for a green leaf to peep out 
between the bloom. Sometimes a freezing shower 
comes down, and that is not quite so pleasant to 
be out in, for in a few moments everything around 
is covered with ice — the boughs seem as if cased 

in glass, the plumage of birds is stiffened by it, 
and they have to give their wings a brisk shaking 
before they are able to fly ; as for a bunch of red 
holly-berries, could they but retain their icy 
covering, they would make the prettiest ornaments 
that could be placed on a mantel-piece. This 
is the time of year to see the beautiful ramification 
of the trees, for the branches are no longer hidden 
by leaves, and all the interlacings and crossings 
of exquisite network are visible — those pencilling 
of the sprays which too few of our artists study. 
Looking nearer at the hedges, we already see the 
tiny buds forming, mere specks on the stem, that 
do but little more than raise the bark ; yet by the 
aid of a glass we can uncoil the future leaves 
which summer weaves in her loom into broad 
green curtains. The snails are asleep ; they have 
glued up the doorways of their moveable habita- 
tions ; and j^ou may see a dozen of their houses 
fastened together if you probe among the dead 
leaves under the hedges with your walking-stick ; 
while the worms have delved deep down into the 
earth, beyond the reach of the frost, and thither the 
mole has followed them, for he has not much choice 
of food in severe frosty weather. The woodman 
looks cold, though he wears his thick hedging 
gloves, for at this season he clears the thick un- 
derwood, and weaves into hurdles the smooth 
hazel-wands, or any long limber twigs that form 
the low thicket beneath the trees. He knows 
where the primroses are peeping out, and can tell 
of little bowery and sheltered hollows, where the 
wood-violets will erelong appear. The ditcher 
looks as thoughtful as a man digging his own 
grave, and takes no heed of the pretty robin that 
is piping its winter song on the withered gorse 
bushes with which he has just stopped up a gap 
in the hedge. Poor fellow, it is hard work for 
him, for the ground rings like iron when he strikes 
it with his spade, yet you would rather be the 
ditcher than the old man you passed a while 
ago, sitting on a pad of straw aud breaking stones 
by the wayside, looking as if his legs were frozen. 
That was the golden-crested wren which darted 
across the road, and though the very smallest of 
our British birds, it never leaves us, no matter 
how severe the winter may be, but may be seen 
among the fir-trees, or pecking about where the 
holly and ivy are still green. If there is a spring- 
head or water-course unfrozen, there you are 
pretty sure to meet with the wag-tail — the smallest 
of all our walking birds, for he marches along 
like a soldier, instead of jumping, as if tied up in 
a sack, as most of our birds do when on the ground. 
Now the blue titmouse may be seen hanging by 
his claws, with his back downward, hunting for 
insects in some decaying bough, or peeping about 
the thatched eaves of the cottages and outhouses, 
where it will pull oiit the straw to stir up the in- 
sects that lie snug within the thatch. In the 
hollows of trees, caverns, old buildings, and dark 
out-of-the-way places, the bats hibernate, holding 
on by their claws, while asleep, head downwards, 
one over another, dozens together, there to await 
the coming of spring, along with the insects which 
will then come out of their hiding-places. 

But unsightly as the bat appears to some eyes, 
there is no cleaner animal living, in spite of all 
our poets have written against it ; for it makes 


a brush of its droll-looking little head, which it 
pokes under its umbrella-like Avings, not leaving 
a cranny unswept, and parts its hair as carefully 
as a ringletted beauty. As for the insects it feeds 
upon, tiicy are now in a state of torpor ; most of 
the butterflies and moths are dead ; those summer 
beauties that used to sit like folded pea-blossoms 
swinging on the flowers, have secured their eggs 
from the cold, to be hatched when the primrose- 
coloured sky of spring throws its warm light over 
the landscape. None of our clever warehouse 
packers can do their work so neatly as these 
insects ; for, after laying their eggs in beautiful 
and regular order, they fill up the interstices with 
a gum "that hardens like glue, and protects them 
in the severest weather. Those who wish for a 
good crop of fruit now hunt among the naked 
branches for these eggs, which are easily found 
through the dead leaves, to which they adhere ; 
when these are destroyed, there is no fear of 
young grubs gnawing and piercing the bloom, 
nor can there be a better time to hunt for these 
destroyers of melting plums and juicy apples 
than in January. No doubt, the soft-billed birds 
that remain with us all the year round devour 
myriads of these eggs, and they serve to eke out 
the scanty subsistence these hardy choristers 
find strewn so sparingly in severe winters. How 
these birds manage to live through the killing 
frosts has long been a puzzle to our ablest natu- 
ralists, and after all their research. He alone 
knoweth without whose permission not a sparrow 
falls to the ground. 

There is no better time than during a walk in 
January to get a good view of the mosses that 
grow on and around the trees, for at this season 
they stand boldly out in all their beautiful col- 
ourings, falling on the eye in masses of rich red, 
silver-gray, umbered brown, and gaudy orange ; 
while the yellow moss is almost as dazzling as 
sunshine, and the green the most beautiful that 
gladdens the earth. In some places, we see it 
fitted together like exquisite mosaic work, in 
others it hangs down like graceful fringe, while 
the green looks like fairy trees, springing from a 
cushion of yielding satin. The screw moss is 
very curiously formed ; it grows plentifidly on 
old walls, and looks like dark-green flossy velvet. 
Now, if closely examined, a number of slender 
stems will be found springing from this soft bed, 
crowned with what botanists call the fruit. On 
this is a cap, just like that found on the unblown 
and well-known eschscholtzia ; when this extin- 
guisher-shaped cap is thrown off (it may be 
lifted ofT) a beautiful tuft of twisted hairs will 
be found beneath, compressed at the neck, and 
forming just such a brush as one can imagine the 
fairies use to sweep out the pollen from the 
flowers. Place this beautiful moss in water, and 
this brush will uncoil itself, if left above the sur- 
face, and release the seed within. Another of 
the scale mosses is equally curious, and if brought 
into a warm room, with a drop of water applied to 
the seed-vessel, it will burst open and throw out 
a little j)ufF of dust ; and this dust, when exa- 
mined by a powerful glass, will be found to con- 
sist of links of little chains, not unlike the 
spring of a watch. But the most beautiful of all 
ia the ' siller ' cup moss, the silvery cup of which 

is shaped like a nest, while the sporules inside 
look like eggs, such as a bird no larger than a 
gnat might build to breed in. This moss is 
commonly found on decayed wood. Sometimes, 
while hunting for curious mosses, at the stems of 
aged trees, we have aroused the little dormouse 
from his wintry sleep, as he lay coiled up, like a 
ball, in his snug burrow, where his store of pro- 
vision was hoarded ; for, unUke the fabled ant, 
he does lay in a stock for this dark season, which 
the ant does not. 

Snow in the streets is very different from snow 
in the country, for there it no sooner falls than 
it begins to make more dirt, and is at once 
trampled into mud by a thousand passing feet 
on the pavement, while in the roadway the 
horses and vehicles work it into ' slush,' which 
only a brisk shower of rain can clear away. In 
the country snow is really white ; there is none 
of that gray dirty look about it, which is seen in 
localities that neighbour upon town, but it lies 
on the fields, as Milton says, like 

' A wintry veil of maiden white. ' 

The embankments look like stately terraces formed 
of the purest marble, and the hills in the distance 
are scarcely distinguishable from the fleecy clouds 
that crown their summits ; while the wild open 
moors and hedgeless commons look like a sea of 
foam, whose waves were suddenly frozen into 
ridgy rest, the buried bushes only shewing like 
loftier crests. Vehicles pass along the scarcely 
distinguishable road with a strange, dull, muffled 
sound, like objects moving before the eye in a 
dream, so much do we miss the gritty and grind- 
ing noise which the wheels make in the dust of 
summer. What a different aspect the landscape 
presents when viewed from some neighbouring 
eminence ! But for a few prominent landmarks, 
we shoidd hardly know it was the same scene 
that we looked upon in summer ; where the 
hedges then stretched like green walls across the 
country, we see but whitened barriers ; for the 
only dark object that now catches the eye is the 
river that goes rolling between its powdered 
banks. The appearance of the village, too, is 
altered; the pi'cturesque thatched roofs of the 
cottages have vanished, and but for the smoke 
that curls above the scene, you might fancy that 
all the inhabitants had fled, for neither flocks 
nor herds are seen or heard bleating and lowing 
from the fields, and all out-of-door employment 
has ceased. You hear the ringing of the black- 
smith's hammer, and as you return when the day 
darkens, will see the light of his forge fall with a 
crimson glare across the snow-covcrcd road. 
Even the striking of the church clock falls upon 
the ear with a deadened sound, and the report of 
the sportsman's gun dies away as soon as heard, 
leaving no prolonged echo behind. 

While watching the snow fall, you can almost 
fancy that the flakes arc white blossoms shaken 
from a land of flowers that lies somewhere above 
the sky ; those that touch the river are gone in 
an instant, whUe some, as they fall slantways, 
unite together before they touch the earth. 
Science has seized upon and pictured the fan- 
tastic shapes the falling snow-flakes assume, 
and they are ' beautiful exceedingly.' Not less 


so is frost-worlc, wlilcli may be seen witlioufc 
stirring abroad on the -wiudow-^iancs ; M'hat a 
mingling of fern leaves and foliage of every 
shape, rare iietworlc and ellln embroidery, does 
this silent worker place before the eye, snch as 
no pattern-drawer ever yet seized upon, although 

' A tiling of beauty is a joy for ever.' — Keats. 

The farmer must attend to his cattle during 
this ' dead season.' for they require feeding early 
and late ; and it is his business to put all the 
meat he can on their backs, so that they may 
weigh heavj', and realise a good price in the 
market. For this purpose, he must be active in 
cutting swedes and mangel-wurzel. Without this 
care, the farmer cannot keep pace with his 
neighbours. He gets rid of his saleable stock as 
soon as he can ; he says, he ' likes to see fresh 
faces in his fields.' It is a pleasant sight to see 
the well-fed, clean-looking cattle in the straw- 
yard, or sniffing about the great barn-doors, 
where the thresher is at work, waiting for tlie 
straw he will throw out. It is a marvel that the 
poultry escape from those great heavy hoofs ; as 
for a game-cock, he will make a dash at the head 
of an ox, as if he cared not a straw for his horns ; 
and as for sucking pigs, they are farrowed to 
be killed. 

The teams are also now busy taking the farm 
produce to market, for this is the season when 
corn, hay, and straw realise a good price ; and 
a wagon piled high with clean white turnips, or 
laden with greens or carrots, has a pleasant look 
moving through the wintry landscape, as it con- 
jures up before the hungry pedestrian visions of 
boiled beef and mutton, which a walk in frosty 
weather gives a hearty man a good appetite to 
enjoy. Manure can also bo carted better to the 
fields during a frost than at any other time, for 
the ground is hard, and the wheels make but 
little impression on rough fallow lands. Let a 
thaw come, and few persons, unless they have 
lived in the country, can know the state the 
roads are in that lead to some of our out-of-the- 
way villages in the claj'ey districts. A foot-pas- 
senger, to get on at all, must scramble through 
some gap in the hedge, and make his way by 
trespassing on the fields. In the lane, the horses 
are knee-deep in mire every step they take ; and 
as for the wain, it is nearly buried up to the axles 
in places where the water has lodged. In vain 
does the wagoner keep whipping or patting his 
strong well-fed horses, or clapping his broad 
shovilder to the miry wheels : all is of no avail ; 
he must either go home for more horses, or bring 
half-a-dozen men from the farm to dig out his 
wagon. It's of no use grumbling, for perhaps his 
master is one of the surveyors of the highways. 

The gorse, furze, whin, or 'fuzz' — country 
people sometimes calling it by the latter name — ■ 
is often in flower all the year round, though the 
great golden-bellied baskets it hangs out in sum- 
mer are now nearly closed, and of a pale yellowish 
green. Although, its spikes are as sharp as spears, 
and there is no cutting out a golden branch with- 
out wearing thick gloves, still it is one of the most 
beautiful of our wayside shrubs, and we hardly 
wonder at Linna;us falling on his knees in admi- 
ration the first time he saw it. Many a time have 

we cut a branch in January, put it in water, and 
placed it in a warm room, when in two or three 
clays all its golden lamps have lighted up, and 
where it stood it seemed to ' malce sunshine in 
the shady place.' 

Where gorse grows abundantl}^, and bees have 
ready access to the bloom, there the finest-coloured 
and sweetest honey is produced. In a very mild 
season, we have seen, under sheltered hedges that 
face the south, the celandine in flower in January. 
Even when not in bloom, its large bright green 
leaves give a spring look to the barren embank- 
ments ; but when out, its clear yellow star-shaped 
flowers catch the eye sooner than the primrose, 
through their deej) golden hue. Country children 
call it the hedge buttercux'), and their little hearts 
leap with delight when they see it springing up 
from among the dead leaves of winter. The 
common red or dead nettle may also occasionally 
be found in flower. Let those who would throw 
it aside as an unsightly weed, examine the bloom 
through a glass, and they will be amazed at its 
extreme loveliness ; such ruby tints as it shews, 
imbedded in the softest bloom, never graced the 
rounded arm of beauty. The blue periwinkle is 
another beautiful flower that diadems the brow 
of January when the season is warm. It must 
be looked for in sheltered situations, for it is not 
at all a common wild-flower : once seen, it can 
never be mistaken, for the twisted bud before 
opening resembles the blue convolvulus. Nor 
must the common chickweed be overlooked, with 
its chaste white star-shaj)ed flowers, which shew 
as early as the snowdrops. The' large broad-leaved 
mouse-ear chickweed flowers later, and will be 
sought for in vain in January, though it sheds 
its seed and flowers frequently six times during 
the summer. Many other flowers we might name, 
though they are more likely to be found in bloom 
next month. 

Many rare birds visit us occasionally in winter, 
which never make their appearance on our island 
at any other season. Some are only seen once 
now and then in the course of several years, and 
how they find their way hither at all, so far from 
their natural haunts, is somewhat of a mystery. 
Many birds come late in the autumn, and take 
their departure early in spring. Others remain 
with tis all the year round, as the thrush and 
blackbird, which often commence singing in 
January. Wrens, larks, and many other small 
birds never leave our country. Flocks of wild- 
geese and other water-fowl, also visit our reedy 
marshes and sheltered lakes in winter ; far up the 
sky their wild cries may be heard in the silence of 
midnight, as they arrive. Hooks now return from 
the neighbouring woods, where they have mostly 
wintered, to their nest-trees ; while the smaller 
birds, which drew near to our habitation during 
the depth of winter, begin to disappear. Those 
that require insect food, go and forage among the 
grass and bushes ; others retreat to the sides of 
stagnant pools, where, during the brief intervals 
of sunshine, gnats are now found. Others hunt 
in old walls, or among decayed trees, where 
insects are hidden in- a dormant state, or are 
snugly ensconced in their warm cocoons, awaiting 
the first warm touch of spring, when, in the 
words of Solomon, ' the flowers appear on the 


earth. . . . . 
in our land.' 

and tke voice of the turtle is heard 


It is very appropriate that this should be the 
first moutk of the year, as far as the northern 
hemisphere is coucei'ned ; since, its beginning 
being near the winter solstice, the year is thus 
made to present a complete series of the seasonal 
changes and operations, including equally the 
first movements of spring, and the death of all 
annual vegetation in the frozen ai'ms of winter. 
Yet the earliest calendars, as the Jewish, the 
Egyptian, and Greek, did not place the com- 
mencement of the year at this point. It was not 
done till the formation of the Roman calendar, 
usually attributed to the second king, Numa 
Pompilius, whose reign is set down as terminating 
anno 672 B.C. Numa, it is said, having decreed 
that the year should commence now, added two 
new months to the ten into which the year had 
previously been divided, calling the first Janu- 
arius, in honour of Janus, the deity supposed to 
preside over doors (Lat. janua, a door), who 
might very naturally be presumed also to have 
something to do with the opening of the year. 

Although, however, there was a general popu- 
lar regard to the 1st of January as the beginning 
of the year, the ancient Jewish year, which 
opened with the 25th of March, continued long 
to have a legal position in Christian countries. 
In England, it was not till 1752 that the 1st of 
January became the initial day of the legal, as it 
had long been of the popular year. Before that 
time, it was customary to set down dates between 
the 1st of January and the 24th of March inclu- 
sive, thus : January 30, 1648-9 : meaning, tliat 
popularly the year was 1649, but legally 1648. 
In Scotland, this desirable change was made by 
a decree of James VI. in privy council, in the 
year 1600. It was eflected in France in 1564 ; 
in Holland, Protestant Germany, and Eussia, in 
1700 ; and in Sweden in 1753. 

According to Verstegan, in his curious book 
The Restltiition of Decayed Intelligence (4to, 1628), 
our Saxon ancestors originally called this month 
Wolf-monat — that is. Wolf-month — 'because 
people were wont always in that month to be 
more in danger to be devoured of wolves than in 
any season else of the year, for that, through the 
extremity of cold and snow, those ravenous crea- 
tures could not fijid beasts sufficient to feed 
upon.' Subsequently, the month was named 
by the same people Aefter-Yule — that is, After 
Christmas. It is rather odd that we should have 
abandoned the Saxon names of the months, while 
retaining those of the days of the week. 


The deity Janus was represented by the Eomans 
as a man with two faces, one looking backwards, 
the other forwards, implying that he stood 
between the old and the new year, with a regard 
to both. To this circumstance the English poet 
Cotton alludes in the following lines : 

'Hark, the cock crows, and you liright star 
Tells us, the day himself 's not far ; 
And see where, breaking from thfj night, 
He gilds the western hills with light. 
With him old Janus doth ajipcar, 
Peeping into the future year, 
With such a look as seems to say, 
The prospect is not good that way. 
Thus do we rise ill sights to see. 
And 'gainst ourselves to prophesy ; 
When the prophetic fear of things 
A more tormenting mischief brings, 
More full of soul-tormenting gall 
Than direst mischiefs can befall. 
But stay ! but stay ! Methinks my sight. 
Better informed by clearer light. 
Discerns sereneness in that Ijrow, 
That all contracted seemed but now. 
His reversed face may shew distaste, 
And frown ujion the ills are past ; 
But that which this way looks is clear, 
And smdes upon the new-born year.' 

In the quaint drawings which illuminate the 
Catholic missals in the middle ages, January is 
represented by ' the figui-e of a man clad in 
white, as the type of the snow usually on the 
ground at that season, and blowing on his fingers 
as descriptive of the cold ; under his left arm he 
holds a bdlet of wood, and near him stands the 
figure of the sign Aquarius, into which watery 
emblem in the zodiac the sun enters on the 19th 
of this month.' — Brady. 

January is notedly, in our northern hemisphere, 
the coldest month in the year. The country 
people in England state the fact in their usual 
strong way : 

' Janiveer — 
Freeze the j)ot upon the fier.' 

They even insist that the cold rather increases 
than decreases during the course of the month, 
notwithstanding the return of the sun from the 
Tropic of Capricorn, remarking : 

' As the day lengthens. 
The cold strengthens : ' 

or, as it is given in Germany, where the same 
idea prevails : 

' Wenn die Tage beginnen zu langen, 
Dann komm erst dor Winter gegangen ' — 

the fact being, we suppose, that it only does so in 
some instances, while those of an opposite cha- 
racter pass unnoticed. 

In the middle of the month, the sun at London 
is only 8h. 20m., at Edinburgh, 7h. 34m., above 
the horizon. There is a liability to severe and 
lasting frosts, and to heavy falls of snow. Veget- 
ation lies dead, and it is usually ' sore times ' for 
the animal creation ; the farmer has his bestial, 
including the sheep, if he keeps any, much upon 
his hands for artificial supplies. The bu'ds of 
the field and wood, reduced to great extremities, 
come nearer to the residences ot men, in the hope 
of picking up a little food. The robin is especi- 
ally remarkable for this forced familiarity. In 
unusually severe seasons, many birds perish 
of cold and hunger, and consequently, when 
the spring comes on, there is a marked dimi- 



nutiou of that biu-st of sylvau song wliick usually 
makes the season so cheerful. 

"When frost occurs witliout a snow-fall — what 
is called in the north a black frost — the ground, 
wholly without protection, becomes hard for 
several inches deep. In Canada, it is sometimes 
frozen three feet down, so that any sort of 
building not founded considerably deeper, is 
sure to be dislodged at the next thaw. Even a 
luaeadaniised road will be broken up and wholly 
ruined from this cause. In our country, and on 
the continent of Europe, a suowless frost gives 
the means of several amusements, which the 
riu'al people are enabled with good conscience 
to indulge in, as being thrown of!" from all 
more serious employments by the state of the 

' Xow ill the Xothcrlands, and Avliore the Rhine 
Branched out iu many a long caual, extends, 
From every province swarming, void of care, 
Batavia rushes forth ; and as they sweep. 
On souncUng skates, a thousand different ways 
In circUug poise, swift as tlie winds along. 
The then gay land is maddened all to joy. 
Xor less the northern com'ts, wide o'er the snow, 
Pom- a new pomji. Eager, on rapid sleds. 
Their ^ngorous youth in bold contention wheel 
The long-resounding coiuse. Meantime to i-aise 
The manly strife, with highly blooming charms 
Flushed by the season, Scaudina\'ia's dames. 
Or Eussia's buxom daughters, glow arovmd.' 


In Holland, the peasantry, male and female, take 
advantage of the state of the waters to come to 
market on skates, often bearing most part of a 

hundredweight on their heads ; yet proceeding 
at the rate of ten miles an hour for two or three 
hours at a stretch. 

In England, skating is on such occasions a 
favourite amusement ; nor do the boys fail to 
improve the time by forming slides on lake, ou 
pond, yea, even ou the public highways, notwith- 
standing the frowns of old gentlemen and the 
threatenings of policemen. All of these amuse- 
ments prevail during dry frost in Scotland, with 
one more, as yet little known in the south. It 
bears the name of CuvUng, and very much re- 
sembles bowls in its general arrangements, only 
with the specialty of Hat stones to slide along 
the ice, instead of bowls to roll along the grass. 
Two parties are ranged iu contention against 
each other, each man provided with a pair of 
handled stones aud a broom, and having crampets 
on his feet to enable him to take a firm hold of 
the glassy surface. They play against each 
other, to have as many stones as possible lying 
near a fixed point, or tee, at the end of the 
course. When a player happens to impel his 
stone weakly, his associates sweep before it to 
favour its advance. A ship, or leader, stands at 
the tee, broom in hand, to guide the players of 
his party as to what they should attempt; whe- 
ther to try to get through a certain open channel 
amongst the cluster of stones guarding the tee, 
or perhaps to come smashing among them, in 
the hoj)e of producing rearrangements more 
favourable to his side. Incessant vociferation, 
frequent changes of fortune, the excitation of a 
healthy physical exercise, and the general feeling 
of socialty evoked, all contribute to render curl- 


ing one of the most delightful of amusements. 
It is further remarkable that, in a small commu- 
nity, the curling rink is usually surrounded by 
persons of all classes — the laird, the minister, and 
the provost, being all hail-fellow-well-met on 
this occasion with the tailors, shoemakers, and 
•weavers, who at other times never meet them 
without a reverent vailing of the beaver. Very 

often a plain dinner of boiled beef with (jreens 
concludes the merry-meeting. There is a Cale- 
donian Curling Clnh in Scotland, embracing the 
highest names in the land, and having scores 
of provincial societies affiliated to it. They 
possess an artificial pond in Strathallaii, near 
the line of the Scottish Central Eailway, and 
thither sometimes converge for one day s conten- 


tiou represeutatives from clubs scattered over 
fully a hundred and fifty miles of country. 

When the low temperature of January is 
attended -witli a lieavy snow-fall, as it often is, 
the ground receives a certain degree of protec- 
tion, and is so far benefited for tillage in spring. 
But a load of snow is also productive of many 
serious inconveniences and dangers, and to none 
more than to the farmer, especially if he be at all 
concerned in store-farmincj . In Scotland, once 
every few j'ears, there is a snow-fall of consider- 
able depth, threatening entire destruction to sheep- 
stock. On one such occasion, in 1795, the snow 
was drifted in some hollows of the hills to the 
depth of a hundred feet. In 1772, there was a 
similar fall. At such times, the shepherd is ex- 
posed to frightful hardships and dangers, in try- 
ing to rescue some part of his charge. James 
Hogg tells us that, in the first-mentioned of these 
storms, seventeen shepherds perished in the 
southern district of Scotland, besides about thirty 
who, carried home insensible, were with difficulty 
recovered. At the same time, many farmers lost 
hundi'cds of their sheep. 


For the uninstructed mind, the fall of snow is 
a very common-place affair. To the thoughtless 

schoolboy, making up a handful of it irto a 
missile, wherewith to surprise his friend passing 
on the other side of the way ; to the labouring 
rnan plodding his way through it with pain and 
difficulty ; to the agriculturist, who hails it as a 
comfortable wrappage for the ground during a 
portion of the dead season of the year, it is but a 
white cold substance, and nothing more. Even 
the eye of weather-wisdom could but distinguish 
that snow sometimes fell in broad fiakes, and 
sometimes was of a powdery consistence ; pecu- 
liarities from which certain inferences were 
drawn as to the severity and probable length of 
the storm. In the view of modern science, under 
favour of the microscope, snow is one of the 
most beautiful things in the museum of nature ; 
each particle, when duly magnified, shewing a 
surprising regularity of figure, but various ac- 
cording to the degree of frost by which the 
snow has been produced. In the Book of Job, 
' the treasures of the snow ' are spoken of; and 
after one has seen the particles in this way, 
he is fully disposed to allow the justice of the 

The indefatigable Arctic voyager, Scoresby, was 
the first to observe the forms of snow particles, 
and for a time it was supposed that they assumed 
these remarkable figures in the polar regions 
alone. It was, however, ascertained by ]\Ir 



James Glaislier, secretary of the Britisli Meteoro- 
logical Societ)-, that, in the cold weather which 
marked the beginuiuo; of 1855, the same and 
even more complicated figures were prcseutcd in 

In consistcuce, a snow particle is laminar, or 
flaky, and it is when wo look at it in its breadth 
that the figure appears. With certain exceptions, 
which probably will be in time explained away, 
the figure is shlhii — a star of six arms or points, 
forming of course angles of 60 degrees. And 
sometimes the figure is composed merely of six 
sjjiculw meeting at a point in this regular way. 
It more frequently happens, however, that the 
spicular arms of the figure are feathered with 
other and siuallcr spicula?, all meeting their respec- 
tive stems at an angle of 60 degrees, or loaded with 
hexagonal prisms, all of which have of course the 
same angles. It is in obedience to a law govern- 
ing the crystallisation of water, that this angle of 
60 degrees everj'where prevails in the figures of 
snow particles, with the slight and probably only 
apparent exceptions which have been alluded to. 
But while there is thus a unity in the presiding 
law, the results are of infinite variety, probably 
no two particles being ever precisely alike. It is 
to be observed that there is a tendency to one 
sft/Ie of figure at any particular time of a snow- 
fall, in obedience to the degree of the temperature 
or some other condition of the atmosphere ; yet 
within the range of this style, or general character, 
the minute differences may be described as end- 
less. A very complicated form will even go 
through a series of minor changes as it melts on 
the object-glass of the observer ; passing from the 

more complicated to the less, till it ends, perhaps, 
as a simple star of six points, just before becoming 

The engraving on tiie preceding page represents 
a selection of figures from ninety-six given by 
Dr Scoresby in his work on the Arctic Eegions.* 
It includes, as will be observed, certain triangular 
and other figures of apparently exceptional cha- 
racter. In a brochure issued by Mr Glaisher, and 
quoted below,t a hundred and fifty-one figures 
are presented, many of them paragons of geo- 
metrical beauty, and all calculated further to 
illustrate this interesting subject. | 


If the grass grows in Janiveer, 

It grows the worse for 't all the year. 

A January spring 
Is worth naething. 

Under water dearth, 
Under snow bread. 

IMarch iu Janiveer, 
January iu March, I fear. 

If January calends be summerly gay, 

'TwiU be winterly weather till the calends of May. 

The blackest month in all the year 
Is the month of Janiveer. 

* Published in 1820, 2 vols., 8vo. 

t Report of Council of Brit. Meteor. Society, May 1855. 

X It lias been found by Mr J. Spencer, and confirmed 
by observations of Mr Glaisher, that a weak solution of 
camphor produces, when rapidly dried, crystals resembling 
those of snow, of the more elementary forms. 




ELD in the !Roman Catliolic 
Cliurcli as the festival of Circum- 
cisio Domini ; observed as a feast 
in the Church of England ou the 
same account. In the Konian 
Church, the following saints are 
honoured on this day : St Fulgen- 
tius, bishop and confessor ; St Odilo 
or Olou, sixth abbot of Climi ; St Alma- 
chus, martyr ; St Eugendus, abbot ; St 
Faine or Fanchea, virgin, of Ireland; St 
Mochua or Moncain, alias Claunus, abbot in 
Ireland ; and St Mochua, alias Cronan, of Balla, 
abbot in Ireland. 

Born. — Soame Jenyiis, 1704, London; Baron Franz Von 
Trenck, 1710 ; Edmund Burke, 1730, Dublin; G. A. 
Burger, 1748, Wahnersicemde ; ]\Iiss Maria Edgewortb, 
1767; Edward Stanley, Bishop of Norwich, 1779; Francis 
Earl of Ellesmere, 1800. 

Died. — Louis XII. of France, 1515; W. Wycherley, 
1716; C. A. Helvetius, 1772, Paris; Silvio Pellico, 1854; 
John Britton, antiquary and topographer, 1857. 


In the oratorical era of the House of Commons 
— the eighteenth century — who greater in that 
arena than Edmund Burke ? A wonderful basis 
of knowledge was crowned in his case by the x^lay 
of the most brilliant imagination. It is an ex- 
ample of ' inconsistency in expectations,' to look 
for life-long solidity of opinion in such a man. 
His early friend, Sinqle-specck Ilamilfon, hit off 
his character as a politician in a single sentence : 
' Whatever opinion Burke, from any motive, sup- 
ports, so ductile is his imagination, that he soon 
conceives it to be right.' Goldsmith's epitaph 
upon him, in the poem, lictaliation, is not less 

' Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, 
We scarcely can praise it or blame it too much ; 
Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind. 
And to party gave up what was meant for mankind. 
Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his 

To persuade Tommy Townsend to lend him a vote ; 
Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining. 
And thought of convincing, while they thought of 

dining ; 
Though equal to all things, for all things unfit ; 
Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit ; 
For a patriot too cool ; for a drudge disobedient. 
And too fond of the r'lcjht to pursue the expedient. 
In short, 'twas his fate, unemployed or m place, su-, 
To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks -n^th a razor.' 

Turning away from the inconstancy of Mr 
Burke as a politician, let us contemplate him as a 
private friend in a day's journey, as delineated 
by Mr Hardy in his Memoirs of Lord Charlemont. 
' 'One of the most satisfactory days, perhaps, that 
I ever passed in my life was going with him, 
Ute-a-teie, from London to Beaconsficld. He 
stopped at Uxbridge whilst the horses were 
feeding, and happening to meet some gentlemen, 
of I know not what militia, who appeared to be 
perfect strangers to him, he entered into discourse 
with them at the gateway of tlie inn. His con- 
versation at that moment completely exemplified 
what Johnson said of him : " That you could not 
meet Burke for half an hour under a shecl, 
without saying he was an extraordinary man." 
He was on that day altogether uncommonly m- 
structive and agreeable. Every object of the 
slightest notoriety, as we passed along, whether 
of natural or local history, furnished him with 
abundant materials for conversation. The house 
at Uxbridge, where the Treaty was held during 
Charles the First's time ; the beautiful and undu- 
lating grounds of Bulstrode, formerly the residence 



G. k. SUKG^ 

of Clmncollor JoftVies ; and AVallev's tomb, m 
Boaconstlekl Churcliyavd, wliicli, before we ^-cnt 
homo, we visited, and whose character— as a 
fjentleman. a poet, and an orator— he shortly 
delineated, but with exquisite felicity of gemus, 
altoi^ether uave an uncommon interest to his 
eloquence ; and. althouo;h one-and-twenty years 
have now passed since that day,! entcrtam the 
most vivid and pleasing recollection of it.' 

G. A. 15LiRGE ;. 

To the poet Biirger belongs the honour of 
having, by two ballads, impressed the poetical 
mind of England, and conduced in some measure 
to its being turned into now channels. A trans- 
lation of these ballads, which appeared in 17UG, 
was the first publication of Scott. The ride of the 
spectre bridegroom with his mistress, in Scott's 
version of Lcnore, is a splendid piece of painting : 

' "ition^' 1 \i, pI(,^ ulnl, she l)U-=k-, '-ht boiin 

out: lliuiiuta tiic baiij bcliiin_l, 

And round her darling William's wai-.;t 
Her lily arms she twined. 

And hurry ! hurry ! off they rode, 

As fast as fast might be ; 
S])urued from the covu'ser's thundering heels, 

The flashing pebbles flee. 

And on the right, and on the left, 

Ere they could snatch a \'iew, 
Fast, fast, each mountain, mead and plain, 

And cot and castle, flew. 

"Sit fast — dost fear ? The moon shines clear- 
Fleet goes my barb — keep hold ! 

Fearst thou ? " "0 no," she faintly said ; 
' ' But why so stern and cold ? 

^^^lat yonder rings ? what yonder sings ? 

Why shrieks the owlet gray?" 
"'Tis death bells' clang, 'tis fuuei'al song. 

The body to the clay. 

With song and clang, at morrow's dawn. 

Ye may inter the dead : 
To-night I ride, -with my young bride, 

To deck our l:)ridal-bed. 

Come with thy choir, thou cofSnecl guest, 

To sweU our nuptial song ! 
Come, priest, to bless onr marriage feast, 

Come all, come all along ! " 

(. ^ isod cling and song ; down sank the bier ; 

1 he shi juded corpse arose : 
And hurry ! hnrry ! all the train 

The thundering steed pursues. 

And forward ! forward ! on they go ; 

High snorts the straining steed ; 
Thick pants the riders' labom-ing breath. 

As headlong on they speed. 

' ' William, why this savage haste ? 

And where thy bridal-bed ? " 
'"Tis distant far, low, damp, and chill. 

And narrow, trustless maid." 

" No room for me ? " " Enough for both ; 

Speed, speed, my I^arb, thy course ! " 
O'er thundering bridge, through boiling surge. 

He drove the furious horse. 

Tramp ! tramp ! along the land they rode, 

Splash ! sjilash ! along the sea ; 
The scourge is white, the spur is bright, 

The flashing pebbles llee. 

Fled past on right and left how fast. 

Each forest, grove, and bower ! 
On right and left fled past how fast, 

Each city, town, and tower ! 

* ' Dost fear ? dost fear ? The moon shines clear, 

Dost fear to ride with me ? 
Hiu-rah ! hurrah ! the dead can ride ! " 

" William, let them be ! 




See there ! see there ! "What yonrler swings 
And creaks 'mid whistling rain ?" 

" Gibbet and steel, the accursed wheel ; 
A murderer in his chain. 

Hollo ! thou felon, fallow here : 

To bridal-bed we ride ; 
And thou shalt prance a fetter dance 

Before me and my bride." 

And hurry ! hurry ! clash, clash, clash ! 

The wasted form descends ; 
And fleet as wind through hazel-bush 

The wild career attends. 

Tramp ! tramp ! along the land they rode, 

Splash ! sjjlash ! along the sea ; 
The scourge is red, the spur drops blood. 

The flashing pebbles flee. 

How fled what moonshine faintly shewed ! 

How fled what darkness hid ! 
How fled the earth beneath their feet, 

The heaven above their head ! 

"Dost fear ? dost fear ? The moon shines clear, 

And well the dead can ride ; 
Does faithful Helen fear for them?" 

' ' leave in peace the dead ! " 

"Barb ! barb ! methiuks I hear the cock, 

The sand will soon be run : 
Barb ! barb ! I smell the morning air ; 

The race is well-nigh done." 

Tramp ! tramp ! along the land they rode, 

Splash ! splash ! along the sea ; 
The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, 

The flashing pebbles flee. 

" HuiTah ! hurrah ! well ride the dead ; 

The bride, the bride is come : 
And soon we reach the bridal-bed. 

For, Helen, here 's my home. " ' 

_ In Ills latter days, as a professor in tlie univer- 
sity of Gottiugen, Biirger was inefficient, yet 
still much respected as tlie writer of the immortal 
Lenore. 'When Tieck became acquainted with 
him, he had been lately separated from his third 
wife. IJe was lean, pale, shrunken — misery was 
written in his features. His voice had lost its 
force ; he could only make himself intelligible 
with difBculty ; and yet he was obliged to speak. 
Now and then he would ride out, and there was 
something spectral about the pale man as he 
trotted through the streets of Gottingen on his 
lean white horse. One was reminded of the 
Ride of Death, which he had so forcibly described. 
Sometimes a ray of sunshine would fall on his 
gloomy soul, when any one succeeded in drawing 
him against his will into his old circle of good 
friends, whom he now anxiously avoided — shun- 
ning, indeed, all intercourse with mankind .... 
In unconstrained moments, Biirger could appear 
unconstrained, sympathetic, and even cheerfid. 
He had something amiable and child-like in his 
nature.' — Kopke's Reminiscences ofLudwia Ticclc, 
1856. "^ 


There is something in Johnson's remark, that 
personal merits in a man of high rank deserve 
to be 'handsomely acknowledged.' Sure of 
homage on account of birth and means, it must 
be unusually good impulses which lead him to 
study, to useful arts, or to administrative 

business. The second son of the Duke and 
Duchess of Sutherland, destined to an immense 
collateral inheritance, the Earl of EUesmere 
devoted himself to elegant literature — in which 
his own efforts were far above mediocrity — to 
the patronage of the ennobling arts, and to 
disinteresteci duty in the public service. The 
benevolence of his nature led him in early life, 
as a member of the House of Commons, to lean 
to a liberal class of measures which were then 
little patronised, but the benefits of which were 
afterwards realised. At a time, moreover, when 
few were thinking much of the tastes and grati- 
fications of the great body of the people, Lord 
Ellesmere prepared a splendid picture gallery 
which he made easily accessible to the public. 
This amiable nobleman died on the 18th Feb- 
ruary 1857. 


While a literary man has his natural life, like 
other men, his fame has another and distinct 
life, which grows to maturity, flourishes a greater 
or less space of time, decays, and comes to an 
end, or in rare cases perseveres in a sort of im- 
mortality. Wycherley is one of the larger class 
of poets whose fame-life may be said to have died. 
First, his poems dropped out of notice ; finally, 
his plays. Yet his name has still a place in 
literary biography, if only for one or two anec- 
dotes which it includes, and for his having as a 
veteran patronised the youthful Pope. 

One of Wycherley 's most successful plays was 
entitled The Plain Dealer ; and thereby hangs 
one of the anecdotes : ' Wycherley went down to 
Tunbridge, to take either the benefit of the 
waters or the diversions of the place ; when 
walking one day upon the Wells Walk, with 
his friend Mr Fairbeard of Gray's Inn, just as 
he came up to the bookseller's, the Countess of 
Drogheda, a young widow, rich and beautiful, 
came to the bookseller and inquired for The 
Plain Dealer. 

" Madam," says Mr Fairbeard, "since you are 
for the Plain Dealer, there he is for you," pushing 
Mr Wycherley towards her. 

" Yes," says Mr Wycherley, " this lady can 
bear plain clealing,- for she appears to be so 
accomplished, that what would be a compliment 
to others, when said to her would be plain deal- 

" ISTo, truly, sir," said the lady, " I am not 
without my faults more than the rest of my se.x : 
and yet, notwitlistanding all my faults, I love 
plain dealing, and never am more fond of it than 
when it tells me of a fault." 

" Then, madam," says Mr Fairbeard, "you and 
the Plain Dealer seem designed by heaven for 
eacli other." 

' In short, Mr Wycherley accompanied her on 
her walks, waited upon her home, visited her 
daily at her lodgings whilst she stayed at Tun- 
bridge, and after she went to London, at her 
lodgings in Hatton Garden, where in a little time 
he obtained her consent to marry her.'* 

The story unfortunately does not end so 

* Gibber's Lives of the Poets, 5 vols. 1753; vol. iii. 
p. 252. 





pleasantly. The hulj' proved unreasonably 
jealous, and led her liusband a rather sad life. 
After her death, her bequest to him Avas disputed 
at law. and, drowned in debt, he was immured 
in a jail for seven years ! — such frightful penalties 
being then exigible by creditors. 


He was one of the few sovereigns of Fr.ance 
who were entirely estimable. He was sober, 
sweet-natured, modest, laborious, loved know- 
ledge, Avas filled with sentiments of honour, 
religion, and benevolence. He strove hj economy 
to keej) down the amount of the public burdens, 
and when his frugal habits were ridiculed in 
the theatre, he said laughingly that he would 
rather have the people to be amused by his 
stinginess than groan under his prodigality. He 
held as a principle that the justice of a prince 
obliged him to owe nothing, rather than his 
greatness to give much. It was rare indeed to 
tind such correct ideas regarding the use and 
value of money in those daj's. 

The first wife of Louis XII. being dead, he 
married, at fifty-three, a second and youthful 
spouse, the Princess Mary, sister of Henry VIII., 
and did not outlive the event three months. 
His widow returned to her own country, and 
married her first lover, Charles Brandon, Duke 
of Suffolk. 


On the 1st of January 1651, the son of Charles I. 
was crowned as Charles II. by the Scots at Scone, 
the southern part of the country being occupied 
at the time by Cromwell with a hostile army. 
The extreme measure of cutting off the late king 
and extinguishing the monarchy was generally 
disapproved of in Scotland ; but in taking up the 
yoimg king, the Scots were chiefly animated by a 
desire of preserving and advancing their favourite 
Presbyterian church arrangements, according to 
the spirit of the famous Solemn League and 
Covenant. Charles, who was then only twenty, 
being anxious to get a footing in his father's lost 
dominions, consented, much against his will, to 
accept this Covenant, which inferred an active 
l^ersecution of both popery and prelacy ; and the 
Scots accordingly received him amongst them, 
fought a battle for him against Cromwell at 
Dunbar, and now crowned him. A sermon was 
preached on the occasion by Mr Eobert Douglas, 
who had the reputation (but upon no just grounds) 
of being a descendant of Mary queen of Scots. 
The crown was put uj)on the young king's head 
by the Marquis of Argyle, whom ten years after 
he sent to the scaffold for compliances with Crom- 
well. The defeat of the Scots and their young 
king at Worcester on the 3d September of this 
year put an end to Charles's adventure, and he 
with difficulty escaped out of the country. How 
he subsequently treated the Covenant and its 
adherents need not here be particiilarised. 


On the 1st of January 1660, General Monk 
commenced that march from Scotland to London 
which was so instrumental in effecting the Eestor- 

ation. He started with his little army of six or 
seven thousand men from the town of Coldstream, 
in Berwickshire — a name which has been com- 
memorated in the title of a regiment which he is 
believed to have embodied at the place, or soon 
after. Monk had spent about three weeks at 
Coldstream, which was a favourable spot for his 
purpose, as the Tweed was there fordable ; but 
he seems to have found it a dismal place to quar- 
ter in. On his first arrival, he could get no 
provisions for his own dinner, and was obliged 
to content himself with a quid of tobacco. His 
chaplains, less easily satisfied, roamed about till 
they obtained a meal at the house of the Eai'l 
of Hume near by. — Monk, a Historical Study, 
ly M. Guizot, translated hy J. Stuart Wortley, 


. On the 1st of January 1801 — the initial day of 
the nineteenth century — Ireland passed into an 
incorporating union with Great Britain, and the 
three kingcloms were thenceforth styled the 
United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. 

The expression, ' initial day of the nineteenth 
century,' requires something to be said in its 
defence, for many persons regard the year 1800 
as the beginning of the present century. The 
year 1801 is, in reality, entitled to this honour, 
because then only had the previous century been 
completed. To make this plain, let the reader 
reflect that it required the year 100 to complete the 
first century, the year 200 to complete the second 
century, and so on through all that followed. To 
say, then, that the year 1800 was the first of a 
new century, is to be led by sound, instead of 


On the 1st of January 1801, the Sicilian 
astronomer, M. Piazzi, discovered a new planet, 
to which he gave the name of Ceres, in honour 
of a goddess formerly in much esteem in Sicily. 
It was the first discovered of a number of siich 
bodies of small size, which occupy the place due 
to one such body of large size, between the orbits 
of Mars and Juj)iter. At present (1861), the 
number is over seventy. 

' It was noted that between the orbits of Mer- 
cury and Venus there is an interval of thirty-one 
millions of miles ; between those of Venus and 
the Earth, twenty-seven millions ; and between 
those of the Earth and Mars, fifty millions ; but 
between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter there 
intervenes the tremendous gap of three hundred 
and forty-nine millions of miles, to the apparent 
interruption of the general order, which, how- 
ever, is again resumed beyond Jupiter.' This 
wide interval, and some other considerations, 
having raised the suspicion of an unknown planet 
between Mars and Jupiter, a combination of 
twenty-four practical observers was formed to 
search for the missing link. ' On New-Year's 
Day 1801, ere they hiad well got into harness, 
Piazzi, one of their number [at Palermo], made 
an observation on a small star in Taurus, which 
he took for one of Mayer's. On the 2d of Janu- 
ary, he found that the supposed star had retro- 




graded no less tliau 4' in JER, and 3^' in north, 
declination. This retrogradation continued till 
about the 12th, when the movement became 
direct, and he followed the body till it was lost 
in the solar rays. Illness, however, prevented 
his getting observations enough to establish its 
nature, and he considered it to be cometary. 
Meantime, he had written to Bode and Oriani on 
the subject, but the delays of the post" in that 
comparatively recent day, by keeping back the 
intelligence, precluded its being examined during 
that apparition. Curiosity and zeal were, how- 
ever, on the alert ; Bode immediately suspected 
the real nature of the stranger; and Gibers, 
Burckhardt, and Gauss computed its orbit from 
the slender data thus afforded. The knowledge 
of its having been stationary on the 12th of 
January, with an elongation from the sun of 
4" 2° 37' 48'' aided the computation, and proved 

it to be a superior planet Thus was Ceres 

discovered on the 1st of January 1801. Its 
diameter, according to Sir William Herschel, is 
only 163 miles.' — Smythe's Ci/cle of Celestial 
Objects, i. 154. 

' Long ere the lingering dawn of that blithe morn 
Which ushers in the year, the roosting cock. 
Flapping his wings, repeats his larum shi'ill ; 
But on that mom no busy flaU obeys 
His rousing call ; no soimds but soimds of joy 
Salute the year — the first-foot's entering stej). 
That sudden on the floor is welcome heard, 
Ere blushing maids have braided up their hair ; 
The laugh, the hearty kiss, the good new year 
Pronounced with honest warmth. In village, gi-ange. 
And borough town, the steaming flagon, borne 
From house to house, elates the poor man's heart. 
And makes him feel that life has still its joys. 
The aged and the young, man, Avoman, child, 
Unite in social glee ; even stranger docs. 
Meeting with bristling back, soon lay aside 
Theii- snarhng aspect, and in sportive chase, 
Excursive scour, or wallow in the snow. 
With sober cheerfidness, the gi-andam eyes 
Her offspring roimd her, aU in health and peace ; 
And, thankful that she's spared to see this day 
Retiu-n once more, breathes low a secret prayer. 
That God woiUd shed a blessing on their heads.' 


As New- Year's Day, the first of January bears 
a prominent place in the popular calendar. It 
has ever been a custom among northern nations 
to see the old year out and the new one in, with 
the highest demonstrations of merriment and 
conviviality. To but a few docs it seem to occur 
that the day is a memorandum of the subtraction 
of another year from the little sum of life ; with the 
multitude, the top feeling is a desire to express 
good wishes for the next twelvemonths' experience 
of their friends, and be the subject of similar 
benevolence on the part of others, and to sec this 
interchange of cordial feeling take place, as far as 
possible, in festive circumstances. It is seldom 
that an English family fails to sit up on the last 
night of the year till twelve o'clock, along with a 
few friends, to drink a happy New Year to each 
other over a cheerful glass. Very frequently, 

too, persons nearly related but living apart, dine 
with each other on this day, to keep alive and 
cultivate mutual good feeling. It cannot be 
doubted that a custom of this kind must tend to 
obliterate any shades of dissatisfaction or jealous 
anger, that may have arisen during the previous 
year, and send the kindred onward through 
the next with renewed esteem and regard. To 
the same good purpose works the old custom of 
giving little presents among friends on this day : 

' The King of Light, father of aged Time, 
Hath brought about that day which is the prime. 
To the slow-gliding months, when every eye 
Wears symptoms of a sober joUity.' 

Charles Lamb had a strong appreciation of the 
social character of New- Year's Day. He remarks 
that no one of whatever rank can regard it with 
indifference. ' Of all sounds of all bells,' says he, 
' most solemn and touching is the peal which 
rings out the old year. I never hear it without 
a gathering up of my mind to a concentration of 
all the images that have been diffused over the 
j)ast twelvemonth ; all I have done or suffered, 
performed or neglected, in that regretted time. 
I begin to know its worth as when a person dies. 
It takes a personal colour ; nor was it a poetical 
flight in a contemporary, when he exclaimed : 

" I saw the skirts of the departing year." ' 

One could wish that the genial Elia had added 
something in recommendation of resolutions of 
improvement of the year to come, for which New- 
Year's Day is surely a most appropriate time. 
' Every first of January that we arrive at, is an 
imaginary milestone on the turnpike track of 
human life : at once a resting-place for thought 
and meditation, and a starting point for fresh 
exertion in the performance of our journey. The 
man who does not at \esLs\, propose to himself io be 
better this year than he was last, must be either 
very good or very bad indeed ! And only to 
propose to be better, is something ; if nothing 
else, it is an acknowledgment of our need to be 
so, which is the first step towards amendment. 
But, in fact, to propose to oneself to do well, is 
in some sort to do well, positively ; for there is 
no such thing as a stationary point in human 
endeavours ; he who is not worse to-day than he 
was yesterday, is better; and he who is not 
better, is worse.' * 

The merrymakings of New- Year's Eve and 
New- Year's Day are of very ancient date in 
England. The head of the house assembled his 
family around a bowl of spiced ale, comically 
called lamb's loool, from which he drank their 
healths ; then passed it to the rest, that they 
might drink too. The word that passed amongst 
them was the ancient Saxon phrase, Wass hael ; 
that is, To your health. Hence this came to be 
recognised as the "Wassail or AVassel Bowl. The 
poorer class of people carried a bowl adorned 
Avith ribbons round the neighbourhood, begging 
for sometliing wherewith to obtain the means of 
filling it, that they too might enjoy wassail as 
Avell as the rich. In their compotations, they 
had songs suitable to the occasion, of which a 
Gloucestershire example lias been preserved : 
* Mirror of the Months, 





' Wassail ! wassail ! over the town, 
Our toast it is white, our ale it is brown : 
Our howl it is made of the maplin tree. 
We be f;ood fellows all ; I drink to thee. 

Here's to , * and to his right ear, 

God send our niaistcr a hapjiy New Year ; 
A happy Xew Year as e'er he did see — 
AVitli my wassailing bowl I drink to thee. 

Here's to ,t and to his right eye, 

God sentl our mistress a good Christmas pie : 
A good Christmas pie as e'er I did sec — 
With my wassailing bowl I drink to thee. 

Here's to Filpail, J and her long tail, 
God send oiu- mcaster us never may fail 
Of a cup of good beer ; I pray you draw near. 
And then you shall hear our jolly wassail. 

Be here any maids, I suppose here be some ; 
Sui-e they will not let yoimg men stand on the 

cold stone ; 
Sing hey maids, come troll back the pin, 
And the fairest maid in the house, let us all in. 

Come, butler, come bring us a bowl of the best : 
I hope your soul in heaven may rest : 
But if you do bring us a bowl of the small, 
Then down fall butler, bowl, and all.' 

AThat follows is au example apparently in use 
amongst cliildren : 

' Here we come a wassailing. 

Among the leaves so gi-eeu, 
Here we come a wandering, 
So fair to be seen. 

Chorus. Love and joy come to you, 
And to yoiu' wassel too. 
And God send you a happy New Year, 

A New Year, 
And God send you a happy New Year ! 
Our wassel cup is made of rosemary-tree. 
So is your beer of the best barley. 

We are not daily beggars. 

That beg from door to door ; 
But we are neighbours' children, 

AV^hom you have seen before. 

Call up the butler of this house, 

Put on his golden ring, 
Let him bring us up a glass of beer 

And the better we shaU sing. 

We have got a little purse. 

Made of stretching leather skin, 

We want a little of your money 
To line it well within. 

Bring us out a table. 

And spread it with a cloth ; 
Bi-ing us out a mouldy cheese. 

And some of your Christmas loaf. 

God bless the master of this house. 

Likewise the mistress too, 
And all the little children, 

That roimd the table go ! 

Good master and mistress. 

While you're sitting by the fire, 

Pray think of us poor children, 
Who are wandeiing in the mire. 

Chorus. Love and joy come to you,' &c. § 

* The name of some horse, 
t The name of another horse. 
+ The name of a cow. 
§ Notes and Queries, i. 137. 

The custom of wassail at tlie New Year was 
kept up in the monasteries as well as in private 
houses. In front of tlie abbot, at the upper end 
of tlic refectory table, was placed the mighty 
bowl styled in their language JPoculum Caritafis, 
and from it the superior drank to all, and all 
drank in succession to each otber.* The corpora- 
tion feasts of London still preserve a custom that 
a (lords a reflex of that of the wassail bowl. A 
double-handled flagon full of sweetened and 
spiced wine being handed to the master, or other 
person presiding, he drinks standing to the 
general health, as announced by the toastmaster ; 
tlien passes it to his neighbour on the left hand, 
who drinks standing to his next neighbour, also 
standing, and so on it goes, till all have drunk. 
Such is the well-known ceremony of the Loving 

Till very few years ago in Scotland, the custom 
of the wassail bowl at the passing away of the old 
year might be said to be still in comparative 
vigour. On the approach of twelve o'clock, a hot 
pint was prepared — that is, a kettle or flagon full 
of warm, spiced, and sweetened ale, with an infu- 
sion of spirits.f When the clock had struck the 
knell of the departed year, each member of the 
family drank of this mixture ' A good health and 
a happy New Year and many of them ' to all the 
rest, with a general hand-shaking, and perhaps a 
dance round the table, with the addition of a song 
to the tune of Sei/ tuttie taitie : 

' Weel may we a' be, 
111 may we never see, 
Here's to the king 
And the gaide companie ! ' &c. 

The elders of the family woidd then most pro- 
bably sally out, with the hot kettle, and bearing 
also a competent provision of buns and short- 
bread, or bread and cheese, with the design of 
visiting their neighbours, and interchanging with 
them the same cordial greetings. If they met by 
the way another party similarly bent, whom they 
knew, they would stop and give and take sips from 
their respective kettles, lleaching the friend's 
house, they would enter with vociferous good 
wishes, and soon send the kettle a-circulating. 
If they were the first to enter the house since 
twelve o'clock, they were deemed as the Jlrst- 
foot; and, as such, it was most important, for 

* Arcliwolorjia, xi. 420. 

•|- Receipt for Making the ]Vassailbotd, — Simmer a small 
quantity of the following spices in a teacupful of water, 
viz.;- — Cardamums, clove?, nutmeg, mace, ginger, cinna- 
mon, and coriander. When done, put the spice to two, 
four, or six bottles of port, sherry, or madeira, with one 
pound and a half of fine loaf sugar (pounded) to four bot- 
tles, and set all on the fire in a clean bright saucepan ; 
meanwhile, have yolks of 12 and the whites of G eggs well 
whisked up in it. Then, when the spiced and sugared 
wine is a little warm, take out one teacupful ; and so on 
for three or four cups ; after which, when it boils, add 
the whole of the remainder, pouring it in gradually, and 
stirring it briskly all the time, so as to froth it. The 
moment a fine froth is obtained, toss in 12 fine soft 
roasted apples, and send it up hot. Spices for each bottle 
of wine : — 10 grains of mace, 46 grains of cloves, 37 grains 
of cardamums, 28 grains of cinnamon, 1 2 grains of nutmeg, 
48 grains of ginger, 49 grains of coriander seeds. — Mark 
Lane Express. 




luck to the family in the coming year, that they 
shoukl make their entry, not empty-handed, but 
■v\ith their hands full of cakes and bread and 
cheese ; of which, on the other hand, civility 
demanded that each individual in the house 
should partake. 

To such an extent did this custom prevail in 
Edinburgh in the recollection of persons still 
living, that, according to their account, the prin- 
cipal streets were more thronged between twelve 


and one in the morning than they usually were 
at midday. Much innocent mirth prevailed, and 
mutual good feelings were largely promoted. An 
unlucky circumstance, which took place on the 
1st January of 1812, proved the means of nearly 
extinguishing the custom. A smaU party of reck- 
less boys formed the design of turning the inno- 
cent festivities of fiyst-fooiincf to account for 
purposes of plunder. They kept their counsel 
well. No sooner had the people come abroad on 
the principal thoroughfares of the Old Town, 
than these youths sallied out in small bands, 
and commenced the business which they had 
undertaken. Their previous agreement was, to 
look outfit' the ivliite iieclcclotJis, — such being the 
best mark by which they could distinguish in 
the dark individuals likely to carry any property 
worthy of being taken. A great number of 
gentlemen were thus spoiled of their watches 
and other valuables. The least resistance was 
resented by the most brutal maltreatment. A 
policeman, and a young man of the rank of a 
clerk in Leith, died of the injuries they had 
received. An affair so singular, so uncharac- 
teristic of the people among whom it happened, 

produced a widespread and lasting feeling of 
surprise. The outrage was expiated by the 
execution of three of the youthful rioters on 
the chief scene of their wickedness ; but from 
that time, it was observed that the old custom of 
going about with the hot pint — the ancient wassail 
—fell oS. 

A gentleman of Preston has communicated to a 
popular publication,* that for many years past he 
has been in the habit of calling on a friend, an 
aged lady, at an early hour of New-Year's Day, 
being by her own desire, as he is a fair-com- 
plexioned person, and therefore assumed to be of 
good omen for the events of the year. On one 
occasion, he was prevented from attending to his 
old friend's request, and her first caUer proved to 
be a dark-complexioned man ; in consequence of 
which there came that year sickness, trouble, and 
commercial disaster. 

In the parish of Berlen, near Snodland, in the 
county of Kent, are the remains of the old man- 
sion of Groves, originally the property of a family 
named Hawks. On part of this house being pulled 
clown in the latter part of the eighteenth century, 
there was found an oak beam supporting the 
chimney, which presented an antic^ue carving 
exactly represented in the engraving at the head 
of this article. The words Wass lieil and Drinc 
Jieile leave no doubt that the bowl in the centre 
was a representation of the wassail bowl of the 
time when the house was built, probably the six- 
teenth centuiy. The two birds on the bowl are 
hawks — an allusion to the name of the family 
which originally possessed the mansion. 

' The wassail bowle,' says Warton, ' is Shak- 
speare's Gossip's Bowl in the Midsummer Night's 
Jbrcam. The composition was ale, nutmeg, sugar, 
toast, and z'oasted crabs or apples.' The word is 
interpreted by Yerstegan as loase hale — that is, 
grow or become well. It came in time to signify 
festivity in general, and that of rather an intem- 
perate kind. A wassail candle was a large candle 
used at feasts. 

There was in Scotland Si first fiotinrj mAe])e-!x- 
dent of the hot-pint. It was a time for some 
youthful friend of the family to steal to the door, 
in the hope of meeting there the young maiden of 
his fancy, and obtaining the privilege of a kiss, as 
hev first fiof. Great was the disappointment on 
his part, and great the joking among the family, 
if through accident or plan, some half-withered 
aunt or ancient grand-dame came to receive liim 
instead of the blooming Jenny. 

It may safely be said that New-Year's Day has 
hitherto been observed in Scotland with a hearti- 
ness nowhere surpassed. It almost appears as if, 
by a sort of antagonism to the general gravity of 
the people, they were impelled to break out in a 
half-mad merriment on this day. Every face was 
bright with smiles ; every hand ready with the 
grasp of friendship. All stiffness arising from 
age, profession, and rank, gave way. The soberest 
felt entitled to take a licence on that special day. 
Heunions of relatives very generally took place 
over the festive board, and thus many little 
family differences were obliterated. At the pre- 
sent time, the ancient practices are somewhat 

* Notes and Queries, 2d Series, ii. 325. 



THE HOOK OF DAYS. thoughts for new-teae's day. 

decayed ; yet the First of January is far from 
beiug reduced to the level of other days. 

A grotesquo manorial custom is described as 
being kept up in ilie reign of Charles II., in con- 
nection witli Hilton in Staffordshire. There 
existed in that house a hollo^v brass image, about 
a foot high, representing a man kneeling in an 
indecorous posture. It -was known all over the 
country as Jack of Hilton. There vrei'e two 
apertures, one very small at the mouth, another 
about two-thirds of an inch in diameter at the 
back, and tlie interior •would hold rather more 
tlian four pints of water, ' which, when set to a 
strong fire, evaporates after the same manner as 
in an ^olipile, and vents itself at the mouth in a 
constant blast, blowing the fire so strongly that 
it is very audible, ajid makes a sensible impression 
iu that part of the tire where the blast lights.' 

iS^ow the custom was this. An obligation lay 
upon the lord of the adjacent manor of Essington, 
every New-Year's Day, to bring a goose to Hilton, 
and drive it three times round the hall fire, which 
Jack of Hilton was all the time blowing by the 
discharge of his steam. He was then to carry 
the bu'd into the kitchen and deliver it to the 
cook ; and when it was dressed, he was further 
to carry it in a dish to the table of his lord para- 
mount, the lord of Hilton, receiving in return a 
dish of meat for his own mess.* 

At Coventry, if not in other places throughout 
England, it is customary to eat what are called 
God-cakes on New-Year's Day. They are of a 
triangular shape, of about half an inch thick, and 
filled with a kind of mince-meat. There are 
halfpenny ones cried through the street ; but 
others of much greater price — even it is said to 
the value of a pound— are used by the ujjper 

^ iappg f ^^ |car— IjiTijpiiuss. 

Sir John Sinclair, visiting Lord Melville at 
Wimbledon on the last day of the year 1795, 
remained all night, and next morning entered his 
host's room at an early hour to wish him a happy 
New Year. Melville, who had been reading a 
long paper on the importance of conquering the 
Cape of Good Hope, as an additional security to 
our Indian possessions, said, as he received the 
shake of his friend's hand : ' I hope this year will 
be happier than the last, for I scarcely recollect 
having spent one happy day in the whole of it.' 
'This confession, coming from an individual whose 
whole life hitherto had been a series of triumphs, 
and who appeared to stand secure upon the sum- 
mit of political ambition, was often dwelt upon by 
my father, as exemplifying the vanity of human 
wishes.' — Memoirs of Sir John Sinclair hy his Son, 
1837, i. 275. 

This anecdote recalls one which Gibbon extracts 
from the pages of Cardonne. He states that in 
the Closet of the Kaliph Abdalrahman the follow- 
ing confession was found after his decease : ' I 
have now reigned fifty years in victory or peace ; 
beloved by my subjects, dreaded by my enemies, 

* Plot's Natural Uistovrj of Staffordshire, p. 433. 

t Notes and Queries, Sep. 20, 1856, 


and respected by my allies. Eiches and honours, 
power and pleasure, have waited on my call, nor 
does any earthly blessing appear to have been 
wanting to my felicity. In this situation I have 
numbered the days of pure and genuine happiness 
which have fallen to my lot : they amount to 
fourteen. O man! place not thy confidence in 
this present world 1 '■ — Decline and Fall of the 
Roman Empire, x. p. 40. 

An actual millionaire of our time, a respected 
member of parliament on the liberal side, convers- 
ing confidently some years ago with a popular 
authoress, stated that he had once been a clerk in 
Liverpool, with forty pounds a year, living in a 
house of four small apartments ; and he was fully 
of belief that he enjoyed greater happiness then, 
than he has since done in Avhat must appear to the 
outer world as tlie most superbly fortunate and 
luxurious circumstances. 

Much has been said, first and last, by sages, 
preachers, and poets, about happiness and its 
unattainableness here below ; but, after all, there 
remains something to be done — a summing up for 
the jury, as it were. God certainly has not 
arranged that any such highly intelligent being 
as man should be perfectly happy ; we have so 
many faculties to be exercised, so many desires 
and tastes calling for their several gratifications, 
and so many and so critical are the circumstances 
of relation in which these stand towards the outer 
world, that such a state never can he fully attained. 
But that approaches may be made to happiness, 
that by certain conduct we may secure many 
innocent gratifications, and avoid many painfid 
experiences, is just as true. A harmonious exer- 
cise of the faculties in subjection to conscientious- 
ness and benevolence — something to be always 
working at, something to be always hoping for — 
under the guidance of reason, so as to avoid over- 
carefulness on the one hand and over-sanguineness 
on the other — these, attended by a regard to the 
preservation of that health of body on which 
health of mind so much depends, will assuredly 
bring us as near to happiness as Providence, for 
the keei^ing of us in activity,* has intended we 
should ever go ; and that is all but up to the ideal 
point. Where, after an active life, the ai^parently 
successful man proclaims his having altogether 
failed to secure happiness, we may be very sure 
there has been some strange inconsistency in his 
expectations, some undue straining in a wrong 
direction, some want of stimulus to the needful 
activity, some pervading jar between him and his 
life relations, or that he has been tempted into 
acts and positions which leave a sting in the 

Sokm« il^ougljts for ^£fa-|Tcitr's ^ug, 
bg goutljcg. 

Come, melancholy Moraliser, come ! 

Gather with me the dark and ^viutry wreath , 

With me eugarland now 

The Sepulchre of Time ; 

Come, Moraliser, to the funeral song ! 
I pour the dirge of the Depai-ted Days ; 

For well the fimeral song 

Befits tliis solemn hour. 




But hark ! even now the merry bells ring round 
With clamorous joy to welcome in this day, 

This consecrated day, 

To mirth and indolence. 

Mortal ! whilst Fortune with benignant hand 
Fills to the brim thy cup of happiness. 

Whilst her unclouded sun 

Illumes thy summer day, 

Canst tliou rejoice — rejoice that Time flies fast ? 
That night shall shadow soon thy summer sun ? 

That swift the stream of Years 

Rolls to eternity ? 

If thou hast loealth to gratify each wish, 

If pow'r be thine, remember what thou art — • 

Remember thou art Man, 

And Death thine heritage ! 

Hast thou known Love? does beauty's better sun 
Cheer thy fond heart with no capricious smile, 

Her eye all eloquence, 

Her voice aU harmouy ? 

Oh ! state of happiness ! hark how the gale 
Moans deep and hollow o'er the leafless grove : 
Winter is dark and cold — 
Where now the charms of spring ? 

Sayst thou that Fancy paints the futm-e scene 
In hues too sombrous ? that the dark-stoled Maid 

With stern and frowning front 

Appals the shuddering sovd ? 

A nd wouldst thou bid me court her fairy form. 
When, as she sports her in some happier mood, 

Her many-coloured robes 

Dance varying to the sun ? 

Ah ! vainly does the Pilgrim, whose long road 
Leads o'er the barren mountain's storm-vexed 

With anxious gaze survey 

The fruitful far-off vale. 

Oh ! there are those who love the pensive song. 
To whom aU soimds of mu-th are dissonant ! 
There are who at this hour 
■ AVill love to contemplate ! 

For hopeless sorrow hail the lapse of Time, 
Rejoicing when the fadmg orb of day 

Is sunk again in uight. 

That one day more is gone ! 

And he. who bears Aflliction's hea^'y load 
With patient piety, well pleased he knows 

The World a pilgrimage. 

The Grave the inn of rest 1 

Tlie custom of making presents on ]S'evr-Yeai''s 
Day has, as far as regards the intercourse of the 
adult population, become almost if not entirely 
obsolete. Presents are generally pleasant to the 
receiver on any day of the year, and are still 
made, but not on this day especially. The practice 
on New-Year's Day is now limited to gifts made 
by parents to their children, or by the elder 
collateral members of a family to the younger ; 
but the old custom, which has been gradually, 
like the drinking of healths, falling into disuse "in 
England, is still in full force in France, as will 
presently be more particularly adverted to. 

The practice of making presents on New- Year's 
Day was, no doubt, derived from the Eomaiis. 
Suetonius and Tacitus both mention it. Claudius 

Si'ohibited demanding presents except on this day. 
rand, in his Popular Antiquiiies, observes, on 
the authority of Bishop Stillingfleet, that the 
Saxons kept the festival of the New Year with 
more than ordinary feasting and jollity, and with 
the presenting of New- Year's gifts to each other. 
Fosbroke notices the continuation of the practice 
during the middle ages ; and Ellis, in his additions 
to Brand, quotes Matthew Paris to shew that 
Henry III. extorted New-Year's gifts from his 

The New- Year's gifts presented by individuals 
to each other were suited to sex, rank, situation, 
and circumstances. From Bishop Hall's Satires 
(1598), it appears that the usual gifts of tenants 
in the country to their landlords was a capon ; 
and Cowley, addressing the same class of society, 
says : 

' When with low legs and in an hmuble guise 
Ye offered up a capon-sacrifice 
Unto his worship at the New- Year's tide.' 

Ben Jonson, in his 3fasque of Christinas, among 
other characters introduces ' New-Year's Gift in 
a blue coat, serving-man like, with an orange, 
and a sprig of rosemary on his head, his hat full 
of brooches, with a collar of gingerbread, his 
torch-bearer carrying a marchpane, with a bottle 
of wine on either arm.' An orange stuck with 
cloves was a common present, and is explained 
by Lupton, who says that the flavour of wine is 
improved, and the wine itself preserved from 
mouldiness, by an orange or lemon stuck with 
cloves being hung within the vessel, so as not to 
touch the liquor. 

Gloves were customary New-Year's gifts. They 
were formerly a more expensive article than they 
are at present, and occasionally a sum of money 
was given instead, which, was called 'glove-money.' 
Presents were of course made to persons in autho- 
rity to secure favour, and too often were accepted 
by magistrates and judges. Sir Thomas More 
having, as lord chancellor, decided a cause in 
favour of a lady with the unattractive name of 
Croaker, on the ensuing New- Year's Day she 
sent him a pair of gloves with forty of the gold 
coins calledan angel in them. SirThomas returned 
the gold with the following note : ' Mistress, since 
it were against good manners to refuse your New- 
Year's gift, I am content to take your gloves, but 
as for i\x.e lining I utterly refuse it.' 

When pins were first invented and brought 
into use about the beginning of the sixteenth 
century, they were a New-Year's gift very ac- 
ceptable to ladies, and money given for the 
purchase of them was called 'pin-money,' an 
expression which has been extended to a sum of 
money secured by a husband on Lis marriage for 
the private expenses of his wife. Pins made of 
metal, in their present form, must have been in 
use some time previous to 1543, in which year a 
statute was passed (35 Hen. VIII. c. 6), entitled 
' An Acte for the true making of Pynnes,' in 
which it was enacted that the price charged 
should not exceed 65. Sd. a thousand. Pins were 
previously made of boxwood, bone, and silver, 
for the richer classes ; those used by the poor 
were of common wood — in fact, skewers. 

The custom of presenting New-Year's gifts to 





the sovereigns of England may be ti'aced back to 
the time of Heniy A^'I. In Eymer's Fcedcra, 
vol. X. p. 3S7, a list is given of gifts received by 
the king between Christmas Pay and February 
4, 1128, consisting of sums of 40o?., 205., 13*. M., 
105., 05. 8(/., and 35. Ad. 

A manuscript roll of the public revenue of the 
fifth year of I'.dward A"I. has an entry of rewards 
given ou IN'ew-year's Day to the king's ofliccrs 
and servants, amounting' to £155, 55., and also of 
sums given to the servants of those who presented 
!Xew-Year's fjifts to the king. 

A similar roll has been preserved of the reign 
of Philip and Mary. The Lord Cardinal Pole 
gave a ' saulte,' with a cover of silver and gilt, 
having a stone therein much enamelled of the 
story of Job; and received a pair of gilt silver 
pots, weighing 113:} ounces. The queen's sister, 
the Lady Elizabeth, gave the fore part of a 
Icyrtell, with a pair of sleeves of cloth of silver, 
richly embroidered over with Venice silver, and 
rayed with silver and black silk ; and received 
three gilt silver bowls, weighing 132 ounces. 
Other gifts were — a sacrament cloth; a cup of 
cr3-stal; a lute in a case, covei'ed with black silk 
and gold, with two little round tables, the one of 
the phisnamij of the emperor and the king's 
majesty, the other of the king of Bohemia and 
his wife. Other gifts consisted of hosea of 
Crarnsey- making, fruits, sugar-loaves, gloves, 
Turkey hens, a fat goose and capon, two swans, 
two fat oxen, conserves, rose-water, and other 

During the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the 
custom of presenting New-Year's gifts to the 
sovereign was carried to an extravagant height. 
The queen delighted in gorgeous dresses, in 
jewellery, in all kinds of ornaments for her 
person and palaces, and in purses filled with gold 
coin. The gifts regularly presented to her were 
of great value. An exact and descriptive inven- 
tory of them was made every year on a roll, 
which was signed by the queen herself, and by 
the proper officers. Nichols, in his Progresses of 
Queen Elizahetli, has given an accurate transcript 
of five of these rolls. The presents were made 
by the great officers of state, peers and peeresses, 
bishops, knights and their ladies, gentlemen and 
gentlewomen, physicians, apothecaries, and others 
of lower grade, down to her majesty's dustman. 
The presents consisted of sums of money, costly 
articles of ornament for the queen's person or 
apartments, caskets studded with precious stones, 
valuable necklaces, bracelets, gowns, embroidered 
mantles, smocks, petticoats, looking-glasses, fims, 
silk stockings, and a great variety of other 
articles. Howell, in his History of the World, 
mentions that 'Queen Elizabeth, in 1561, was 
presented with a pair of black silk knit stockings 
by her silk-woman, Mrs Montague, and thence- 
forth she never wore cloth hose any more.' The 
value of the gifts in each year cannot be ascer- 
tained, but some estimate may be made of it 
from the presents of gilt plate which were in all 
instances given in return by the queen; an exact 
account having been entered on the roll of the 
weight of the plate which each individual received 
m return for his gift. The total weight in 1577-8 
amounted to 5883 ounces. The largest sum of 

money given by any temporal lord was £20 ; but 
the Archbishop of Canterbury gave £10, the 
Archbishop of York £30, and other spiritual 
lords £20 or £10. The total amount in the year 
1561-2 of money gifts was £1262, II5. %d. The 
queen's wardrobe and jewellery must have been 
principally supplied from her New- Year's gifts. 

The Earl of Leicester's New-Year's gifts ex- 
ceeded those of any other nobleman in costliness 
and elaborate workmanship. The description of 
the gift of 1571-2 may be given as a specimen : 
' One armlet, or sliakell of gold, all over fairely 
garnished with rubyes and dyamondes, haveing 
in the closing thearof a clocke, and in the fore 
part of the same a fayre lozengie dyamonde 
without a foyle, hanging thearat a round juell 
fully garnished with dyamondes, and perle pend- 
ant, weying 11 oz. qu. dim., and farthing goldo 
weight : in a case of piu'ple vcUate all over em- 
branderld with Venice golde, and lyned with 
greene vellat.' 

In the reign of James I. the money gifts seem 
to have been continvied for some time, but the 
ornamental articles presented appear to have been 
few and of small value. In January 1601, Sir 
Dudley Carleton, in a letter to Mr Winwood, 
observes : ' New-Year's Day passed without any 
solemnity, and the accustomed present of the 
purse and gold was hard to be had without ask- 
ing.' Mr Nichols, in a note on this passage, 
observes : ' During the reigns of King Edward 
VI., Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth, the 
ceremony of giving and receiving New- Year's 
gifts at Court, which had long before been cus- 
tomary, was never omitted, audit was continued at 
least in the early years of King James ; but I have 
never met with a roll of those gifts similar to the 
several specimens of them in the Progresses of 
Queen EUzahetli.' He afterwards, however, met 
with such a roll, which he has copied, and in a 
note attached to the commencement of the roll, 
he makes the following remarks : ' Since the 
note in that page [471 of vol. i.. Progresses of 
James Z.J was printed, the roll here accurately 
transcribed has been purchased by the trustees 
of the British Museum, from Mr Rodd, book- 
seller of Great Newport Street, in whose cata- 
logue for 1824 it is mentioned. It is above ten 
feet in length ; and, like the five printed in 
Queen Elizabeth's "Progresses, "exhibits the gifts 
to the king on one side, and those from his ma- 
jesty on the other, both sides being signed by the 
royal hand at top and bottom. The gifts cer- 
tainly cannot compete in point of curiosity with 
those of either Queen Mary's or Queen Eliza- 
beth's reign. Instead of curious articles of dress, 
rich jewels, &c., nothing was given by the 
nobility but gold coin.' The gifts from the 
nobility and prelates amounted altogether to 
£1293, 135. 4r?. The remainder were from per- 
sons who held some office about the king or 
court, and were generally articles of small value. 
The Duke of Lennox and the Archbishop of 
Canterbury gave each £10; all other temporal 
lords, £20 or £10 ; and the other spiritual lords, 
£30, £20, £13, 65. 8^., or £10. The Duke of 
Lennox received 50 ounces of plate, the Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury 55 ounces ; those who 
gave £20 received about 30 ounces, and for 




smaller sums the return-gift was iu a similar 

No rolls, nor indeed any notices, seem to liavc 
been preserved of New-Year's gifts presented to 
Charles I., though probably there were such. 
The custom, no doubt, ceased entirely during the 
Commonwealth, and was never afterwards revived, 
at least to any extent worthy of notice. Mr 
Nichols mentions that the last remains of the 
custom at court consisted in placing a crown- 
piece under the plate of each of the chaplains in 
waiting on New- Year's Day, and that this 
cvistom had ceased early in the nineteenth cen- 

There is a pleasant story of a New- Year's gift 
in the reign of King Charles I., in which the 
court jester, Archy Armstrong, figures as for 
once not the maker, but the victim of a jest. 
Coming on that morn to a nobleman to bid him 
good-morrow, Archy received a few gold pieces ; 
which, however, falling short of his expectations 
in amount, he shook discontentedly in his hand, 
muttering that they were too light. The donor 
said : ' Prithee, then, Archy, let me see them 
again ; and, by the way, there is one of them 
which I would be loth to part with.' Archy, 
expecting to get a larger gift, returned the 
pieces to his lordship, who put them in his 
pocket, with the remark : ' I once gave my 
money into the hands of a fool, who had not the 
wit to keep it.' — Banquet of Jesfs, 1634. 

It cannot be said that the custom of giving 
presents to sviperiors was a very rational one : 
one can even imagine it to have been something 
rather oppressive — ' a custom more honoured in 
the breach than the observance.' Yet Robert 
Herrick seems to have found no difficulty in 
bringing the smiles of his cheerful muse to bear 
upon it. It must be admitted, indeed, that the 
author of the Hesperides made his poem the gift. 
Thus it is he addresses Sir Simon Steward in 

. ' A jolly 
Verse, crowned with ivy and ^vith holly ; 
That tolls of winter's tales and mirth, 
That milkmaids make about the hearth ; 
Of Christmas' sports, the wassail bowl, 
That's tost up after fox-i'-th'-hole; 
Of bliud-man-bufF, antl of the care 
That young men have to shoe the mare ; 
Of twelfth-tide cakes, of pease and beans, 
Wherewith ye make those merry scenes; 
Of crackling laurel, which fore-sounds 
A plenteous harvest to yom* grounds ; 
Of those, and such like things, for shift, 
We send, instead of New- Year''s gift. 
Head then, and when your faces shine 
AVith buxom meat and cap'ring wine, 
llemember us in cups fidl crown'd, 
And let our city-health go round. 
Then, as ye sit about your embers, 
Call ntjt to mind the fled Decembers ; 
But think on these, that are t' appear 
As (laughters to the instant year ; 
And to the bagpipes all address, 
Till sleep take place of weariness. 
And thus tliroiighout, with Christmas plays, 
Frolic the full twelve holidays.' 

The custom of giving of presents among rela- 
tives and friends is much declined in Eng- 
land, but is still kept xip with surprising 

vigour in Paris, where the day is especially 
recognised from this circumstance as Le Jour 
d'Etrennes. Parents then bestow portions on 
their children, brothers on their sisters, and hus- 
bands make settlements on their wives. The 
mere externals of the day, as observed in Paris, 
ai'e of a striking character: they were described 
as follows in an English journal, as observed 
in the year 1824, while as yet the restored 
Bourbon reigned in Erance : ' Carriages,' says 
this writer, ' may be seen rolling through the 
streets with cargoes of bon-bons, souvenirs, and 
the variety of etceteras with which little children 
and grown tip children are bribed into good 
humour ; and here and there pastrycooks are to 
be met with, carrying upon boards enormous 
temples, pagodas, churches, and playhouses, made 
of fine flour and sugar, and the embellishments 
which render French pastry so inviting. But 
there is one street in Paris to which a New- Year's 
Day is a whole year's fortune — this is the Eue 
des Lombards, where the wholesale confectioners 
reside; for in Paris every trade and profession 
has its peculiar quarter. For several days pre- 
ceding the 1st of January, this street is com- 
pletely blocked up by carts and wagons laden 
with cases of sweetmeats for the provinces. These 
are of every form and description which the 
most singular fancy could imagine ; bunches of 
carrots, green peas, boots and shoes, lobsters and 
crabs, hats, books, musical instruments, gridirons, 
frying-pans, and sauce-pans ; all made of sugar, 
and coloured to imitate reality, and all made 
with a hollow within to hold the bon-bons. The 
most prevailing device is what is called a cornet; 
that is, a little cone ornamented in different 
ways, with a bag to draw over the large end, and 
close it up. In these things, the prices of which 
vary from one franc (tenpence) to fifty, the bon- 
bons are presented by those who choose to be at 
the expense of them, and by those who do not, 
they are only wrapped in a piece of paper ; but 
bon-bons, in some way or other, must be pre- 
sented. It would not, perhaps, be an exaggera- 
tion to state that the amount expended for pre- 
sents on New- Year's Day in Paris, for sweet- 
meats alone, exceeds 500,000 francs, or £20,000 
sterling. Jewellery is also sold to a very large 
amount, and the fancy articles exported in the 
first week of the year to England and other 
countries, is computed at one-fourth of the sale 
during the twelvemonths. In Paris, it is by no 
means uncommon for a man of 8000 or 10,000 
francs a year, to make presents on New- Year's 
Day which cost him a fifteenth part of his income. 
No person able to give must on this day pay a 
visit empty-handed. Everybody accepts, and 
every man gives according to the means which he 
possesses. Females alone are excepted from the 
charge of giving. A pretty woman, respectably 
connected, may reckon her New-Year's presents 
at something considerable. Gowns, jewellery, 
gloves, stockings, and artificial flowers fill her 
drawing-room :"for in Paris it is a custom to dis- 
play ail the gifts, in order to excite emulation, 
and to obtain as much as possible. At the palace, 
Ihe New- Year's Day is a complete jour de fete. 
Every branch of the royal family is then expected 
to make handsome presents to the king. For the 
' 33 

nonsox, the cakkiee. 



sis montlis preceding January 1824, tlie female 
branches -were busily occupied in preparing pre- 
sents of tlieir own manufactm-e, whicli would fill 
at least t^yo common-sized wagons. The Duchess 
de Ik^rri painted an entire room of japanned 
panels, to be set iip in the palace, and the Duchess 
of Orleans prepared an elegant screen. Au 
English gentleman, who was admitted suddenly 
into the presence of the Duchess de Berri two 
months before, found her and three of her maids 
of honour, lying on tlie carpet, painting the legs of 
a set of chaii-s, which were intended for the king. 
The day commences with the Parisians, at au 
carl}'' hour, by the interchange of their visits and 
bon-bons. The nearest relations are visited first, 
untd. the furthest in blood have had their calls ; 
then friends and acquaintances. The conflict to 
anticipate each other's calls, occasions the most 
agreeable and whimsical scenes among these pro- 
ficients in polite attentions. In these visits, and 
in gossiping at the confectioners' shops, which 
arc the great lounge for the occasion, tlie morn- 
ing of jNew- Year's Day is passed ; a dinner is 
given by some member of the family to all the 
rest, and the evening concludes, like Christ- 
mas Day, with cards, dancing, or any other 
amusement that may be preferred.' 


Died, January 1, 1G30-1, Thomas Hobson, of 
Cambridge, the celebrated University carrier, 
who had the honour of two epitaphs written 
upon him by Milton. He was born in or about 
1544 ; his father was a carrier, and he bequeathed 
to him ' the team ware, with which he now goeth, 
that is to say, the cart and eight horses,' harness, 
nag, &e. After his father's death, lie continued 
the business of a carrier with great success ; a 
considerable profit was then made by carrying 
letters, which the University of Cambridge 
licensed persons to do, before and after the intro- 
duction of the post-office system. The old man 
for many years passed monthly vrith his team 
between his own home in Cambridge, and the 
Bidl Inn in Bishopsgate-street, and back again, 
convej^ing both packages and human beings. He 
is also said to have been the first person in the 
kingdom who let horses for hire, and the scru- 
pidous pertinacity with which he refused to 
aUow any horse to be taken from his stables 
except in its proper turn, has given him a kind 
of celebrity. If the horse he ofiered to his 
customer was objected to, he curtly replied, 
' This or none ; ' and ' Hobson's choice^this or 
none,' became a proverb, which it is to this day. 
Steele, in the Spectator, No. 509, however, con- 
siders the proverb to be ' by vulgar error taken 
and used when a man is reduced to an extremity, 
whereas the propriety of the maxim is to use it 
when you would say. There is plenty, but you 
must make such a choice as not to hurt another 
who is to come after you.' ' He lived in Cam- 
bridge, and observing that the scholars rid hard, 
his manner was to keep a large stable of horses, 
with boots, bridles, and whips, to furnish the 
gentlemen at once, without going from college to 
college to borrow.' He used to tell the scholars 
they would ' come time enough to London if they 

did not ride too fast.' By his rule of taking 
the horse which stood next the stable-door, 
' every customer,' says Steele, ' was alike well 
served according to his chance, and every horse 
ridden with the same justice. This memorable 
man stands drawn in fresco at an inn (which he 
used) in Bishopsgate-street, with an hundred 
pound bag under his arm.' 

Hobson grew rich by his business : in 1604, he 
contributed £50 to the loan to King James I. 
In 1626, he gave a large Bible to the church of 
St Benedict, in which parish he resided. He 
became possessed of several manors, and, in 
1628, gave to the University and town the site of 
the Spinning House, or ' Hobson's Workhouse.' 

In 1630, Hobson's visits to London were sus- 
pended by order of the authorities, on account 
of the plague being in London ; and it was during 
this cessation from business that lie died. Md- 
ton, in one of his epitaphs on him, quaintly 
adverts to this fact, remarking that Death would 
never have hit him had he continued dodging it 
backwards and forwards between Cambridge and 
the BuU. 

Hobson was twice married. By his first wife 
he had eight chUdren, and he survived his second 
wife. He bequeathed considerable property to 
his famUy ; money to the corporation, and the 
profits of certain pasture-land (now the site of 
Downing College) towards the maintenance and 
heightening of the conduit in Cambridge. He 
also left money to the poor of Cambridge, Ches- 
terton, Waterbeach, Cottenham, and Bunting- 
ford, of which latter place he is believed to have 
been a native. He was buried in the chancel of 
Benedict's church, but no monument or inscrip- 
tion marks the spot. In one of Mdton's humor- 
ous epitaphs on him, reference is made to his 
cart and wain, which proves that there is no 
foundation for the popular opinion that Hobson 
carried on his business by means of packhorses. 
In the second epitaph it is amusing to hear the 
author of England's solemn epic indulging in droll- 
eries and j)uns regarding poor Hobson, the carrier : 

' Eest, that gives all men life, gave him his death, 
Aud too much breathing put him out of breath ; 
Nor were it coutrachction to affinn 
Too long vacation hastened on his term. 
Merely to drive the time away he sickened. 
Fainted, and died, nor would with all be quickened. 
Ease was his chief disease ; and, to judge right, 
He died for weariness that his cart went light : 
His leisure told him that his tune was come, ■ 
And lack of load made his life burdensome : 
Obedient to the Moon, he spent his date 
In course rccipi'ocal, and had his fate 
Linked to the mutual flowing of the seas ; 
Yefc, sti-ange to think, his wain was his increase. 
His letters are delivered all aud gone, 
Ordy remains this superscription.' 

Several memorials of the benevolent old carrier, 
who is believed to have reached his eighty-fiflli 
year, are preserved. There was formerly a pic- 
ture of him at Anglesey Abbey ; and Eoger 
Yorke had another, supposed to have belonged 
to Mrs Katherine Pepys, who, in her will dated 
1700, bequeathed ' old Mr Hobson's picture.' 
His saddle and bridle were preserved in the 
town-hall at Cambridge duinng the present cen- 




tury. A publio-lioiise in the town was called 
' Old Hobson,' and another ' Hobson's House ; ' 
but he is traditionally said to have resided at 
the south-west corner of Pease Hill, and the site 
of the two adjoining houses were his stables. 
Even in his life-time his popularity must have 
been great, as in 1617 was published a quarto 
tract, entitled ' Hobson's Horseload of Letters, 
or Pi-ecedent for Epistles of Business, &c.' 

The name of Hobson has been given to a 
street in Cambridge, ' in which have long resided 
Messrs Swann and Sons, carriers, who possess a 
curious portrait of Hobson, mounted on a stately 
black nag. This was preserved for many years 
at Hobson's London inn, the Bull, in Bishopsgate 
Street.'- — Cooper's Annals of Cambridge, vol. iii. 
p. 236. 

There are several engraved portraits of Hob- 
son : that by John Payne, who died about 1648, 
represents Hobson in a cloak, grasping a bag of 
money, and has these lines underneath : 

' Laugh not to see so plaiue a man in print, 
The shadow's homely, yet there's something in't. 
Witness the Bagg he wears (though seeming poore), 
The fertile Mother of a thousand more : 
He was a thriving Man, through lawful gain, 
And wealthy grew by warrantable faune. 
Men laugh at them that spend, not them that gather, 
Like thriving souues of such a thrifty Father.' 




i:ur:-!0N, rin^ CAMi^K::) 

From Ike Print by Payne. 

This print is, most probably, from the fresco 
figure at the Bull Inn, which, in Chalmers's 
Eiujlhlt Toets, 1810, is stated as ' lately to be 
seen,' but it has long since disappeared ; and the 
Bull is more modernised than cither the Green 
Dragon or the Four Swans inns, at a few houses 
distant: the Green Dragon has its outer gal- 
leries remaining, but modernised and inclosed 
with glass ; the Four Swaus is still more perfect, 
and is, perhaps, the most entire galleried inn 

which remains in the metropolis, and shews how 
well adapted were the inns of old for the repre- 
sentation of stage plays. That the Bull was indeed 
for this purpose, we have evidence — the yard hav- 
ing supplied a stage to our early actors before 
James Burbage and his fellows obtained a patent 
from Queen Elizabeth for erecting a permanent 
building for theatrical entertainments. Tarlton 
often played here. — Collier's Annuls, vol. iii. p. 
291, and Tarlton's Jests, by Halliwell, pp. 13, LI. 
Anthony Bacon (the brother of Francis) lived in 
Bishopsgate Street, not far from the Bull Inn, 
to the great annoyance of his mother, who dreaded 
that the plays and interludes acted at the Bull 
might corrupt his servants. 

On the whole, we obtain a pleasing idea of 
Hohson, as an honest, painstaking man ; a little 
arbitrary perhaps, but full of sound principle, and 
essentially a well-wisher to his species. 


St Macarius of Alexandria, anchoret. St Coucordius, 
martyr. St Adelard, abbot. 

[It is not possible in this work to give special 
notices of all the saints of the Eomish calendar ; 
nor is it desirable that such should be done. 
There are, however, several of them who make a 
prominent figure in history ; some have been 
remarkable as active and self-devoted missionaries 
of civilisation ; while others supply curious exam- 
ples of the singularities of which men are capable 
under what are now very generally regarded as 
morbid views of religion. Of such persons it 
does not seem improper that notices of a dis- 
passionate nature should be given, among other 
memorable matters connected with the days of 
the year.] 


St Macarius was a notable example of those 
early Christians who, for the sake of heavenly 
meditation, forsook the world and retired to live 
in savage wildernesses. Originally a confectioner 
in Alexandria, he withdrew, about the year 325. 
into the Thebais in Upper Egypt, and devoted 
liims elf wholly to religious thoughts. Afterwards, 
lie took lip his abode in still remoter deserts, 
bordering on Lybia, where there were indeed 
other hermits, but all out of sight of each other. 
Tie exceeded his neighbours in the practice of 
those austerities whicli were then thought the 
highest qualification for the blessed abodes of 
the futu^rc. 'For seven years together,' says 
Alban Butler, ' he lived only on raw herbs and 
]ralse, and for the three following years con- 
tented himself with four or five ounces of bread 
a day ; ' not a fifth part of the diet required to 
keep the inmates of modern gaols in good health. 
Hearing great things of the self-denial of the 
monks of Tabenna, he went there in disguise, 
and astonished them all by passing through Lent 
on the aliment furnished by a few green cabbage 
leaves eaten on Sundays. He it was of whom 
the striking story is told, that, having once kUlcd 
a gnat which bit him, he immediately hastened 





in a penitent and self-mortifying humour to tlie 
mavslies of Seete, -wliieli abound with great flies, 
a torment even to the wihl boar, and exposed 
himself to these ravaging insects for six months ; 
at the end of whieh time his body was a mass of 
putrid sores, and he only could be recognised 
by his voice.* 

The self-devoting, self-denying, self- tormenting 
anchoret is an eccentricity of human nature now 
much out of fashion ; which, however, we may 
still contemplate with some degree of interest, 
for the basis of the character is connected with 
both true religion and true virtue. We are told 
of Macarius that he was exposed to many temp- 
tations. ' One,' says Butler, ' was a suggestion to 
quit his desert and go to Home, to serve the 
sick in the hospitals ; which, by due reflection, 
he discovered to be a secret artifice of vain-glory 
inciting him to attract the eyes and esteem of 
the world. True humility alone could discover 
the snare which lurked under the specious gloss 
of holy charity. Finding this enemy extremely 
importunate, he threw himself on the ground in 
his cell, and cried out to the fiends, " Drag me 
hence, if you can, by force, for I will not stir." 
Thus he lay till night, and by this vigorous 
resistance they were quite disarmed. As soon 
as he arose they renewed the assault ; and he, to 
stand firm against them, filled two great baskets 
with sand, and laying them on his shoulders, 
travelled along the wilderness. A person of his 
acquaintance meeting him, asked him what he 
meant, and made an ofler of easing him of his 
burden ; but the saint made no other reply than 
this: "I am tormenting my tormentor." He 
returned home in the evening, much fatigued 
ui body, but freed from the temptation. St 
Macarius once saw in a vision, devils closing 
the eyes of the monks to drowsiness, and tempting 
them by diverse methods to distractions, during 
the time of public prayer. Some, as often as 
they approached, chased them away by a secret 
supernatural force, whilst others were in dalliance 
with their suggestions. The saint burst into 
sighs and tears ; and, when prayer was ended, 
admonished every one of his distractions, and of 
the snares of the enemy, with an earnest exhorta- 
tion to emploj'. in that sacred duty, a more than 
ordinary watchfulness against his attacks. St 
Jerom and others relate, that, a certain anchoret 
in jN^itria having left one hundred crowns at his 
death, which he had acquired by weaving cloth, 
the monks of that desert met to delibei-ate what 
should be done with the money. Some were for 
having it given to the poor, others to the church ; 
but Macarius, Pambo, Isidore, and others, who 
were called the fathers, ordained that the one 
hundred crowns should be thrown into the grave 
and buried with the corpse of the deceased, and 
that at the same time the following words should 
be pronounced : May thy money he with thee to 
perdition.-^ This example struck such a terror 
into all the monks, that no one durst lay up any 
money by him.' 

Butler quotes the definition of an anchoret 
given by the Abbot Eance de la Trappe, as a 
lively portraiture of the great Macarius : ' When,' 

* Butler's Lives of the Saints. 

t Acts viii. 20. 

says he, ' a soul relishes God in solitude, she 
thinks no more of anything but heaven, and 
forgets the earth, which has nothing in it that 
can now please her ; she burns witli the fire of 
divine love, and sighs only after God, regarding 
death as her greatest advantage : nevertheless 
they will find themselves much mistaken, who, 
leaving the world, imagine they shall go to God 
by straight paths, by roads sown with lilies and 
roses, in which they will have no difficulties 
to conquer, but that the hand of God will turn 
aside whatever could i*aise any in their way, or 
disturb the tranf|uillity of their retreat : on the 
contrary, they must be persuaded that tempta- 
tions will everywhere follow them, that there is 
neither state nor place in which they can be 
exempt, that the peace Avhich God promises is 
procured amidst tribulations, as the rose buds 
amidst thorns ; God has not promised his ser- 
vants that they shall not meet with trials, but 
that with the temptation he will give them 
grace to be able to bear it : heaven is oflcred 
to us on no other conditions ; it is a kingdom of 
conquest, the prize of victory— but, O God, what 
a prize ! ' 

Born. — John, Marquis of Granby, 1721; Gei.eral Wolfe, 
JJ'eslerham, Kent, 1727. 

Died. — Publius Ovidius Naso, the Roman poet, 18; 
Titus Livius, the Ro;nau historian, 18, Padua; Alexan- 
der, Earl of Rosslyii, Lord Chancellor of England, 1805; 
Dr John Masou Good, 1827; Dr Andrew Ure, chemist, 


When, in 1759, Pitt entrusted General AVolfe 
with the expedition against Quebec, on the day 
preceding his embarkation, Pitt, desirous of giving 
his last verbal instructions, invited him to dinner 
at Hayes, Lord Temple being the only other 
guest. As the evening advanced, Wolfe, heated, 
perhaps by his own aspiring thoughts, and the 
unwonted society of statesmen, broke forth in a 
strain of gasconade and bravado. He drew his 
sword and rapped the table with it, he flourished 
it round the room, and he talked of the mighty 
things which that sword was to achieve. The 
two ^Ministers sat aghast at an exhibition so un- 
usual from any man of real sense and spirit. And 
when, at last, Wolfe had taken his leave, and his 
carriage was heard to roll from the door, Pitt 
seemed for the moment shaken in the right opinion 
which his deliberate judgment had formed of 
Wolfe : he lifted up his eyes and arms, and ex- 
claimed to Lord Temple : ' Good God ! that I 
should have entrusted the fate of the country and 
of the administration to such hands ! ' This story 
was told by Lord Temple himself to the Et. Hon. 
Thomas Grcnville, the friend of Lord Mahon, 
who has inserted the anecdote in his History of 
England, vol. iv. Lord Temple also told Mr 
Grenville, that on the evening in question, Wolfe 
had partaken most sparingly of wine, so that 
this ebullition could not have been the effect of 
any excess. The incident affords a striking proof 
how much a fault of manner may obscure and 
disparage high excellence of mind. Lord Mahon 
adds : ' It confirms Wolfe's own avowal, that he 
was not seen to advantage in the common occur- 




reuces of life, and sliews how shyness may, at 
intervals, rush, as it were, for refuge, into the 
opposite extreme; but it should also lead us to 
view such defects of manner with indulgence, as 
proving that they may co-exist with the highest 
ability and the purest virtue.' 

The death of General AVolfe was a kind of 
military martyrdom. He had failed in several 
attempts against the French power in Canada, 
dreaded a court martial, and resolved by a bold 
and original stroke to justify the confidence of 
Pitt, or die. Thence the singularity of his move- 
ment to get upon the plain of Abram behind 
Quebec. The French came out of their fortress, 
fought him, and were beaten ; but a stray shot 

brought down the young hero in the moment of 
victory. The genius of West has depicted very 
successfully a scene whicli remains engraved in 
the national heart. Wolfe died on the 13th of 
September 1759, in the 3.3d year of his age. 
His body was brought to England, and interred 
at Greenwich. 

The want of a Life of General Wolfe, — a strange 
want, considering the glory which rests on the 
name, — has caused some points regarding liim to 
remain in doubt. It is doubtful, for example, if 
he was in service in the campaign of the Duke of 
Cumberland in the north of Scotland in 174*5. 

In Jacohlte Memoirs of the Rebellion of 1745-0, 
a collection of original papers edited by Mr 


Kobert Chambers in 1834, there are evidences of 
a gentleman's house at Aberdeen having been 
forcibly taken possession of by the Duke of 
Cumberland and General Ilawley ; who, not con- 
tent with leaving no recjuital behind them, took 
away many articles of value, which are afterwards 
found to have been sold in London. In this unplea- 
sant story, a' Major Wolfe,' described as aide-de- 
camp to Hawloy, figures as a bearer of rough mes- 
sages. A painful question arises, ' Could this be llie 
future hero of (Quebec? ' One fact is gratifying 
by contradiction, that this hero was not a major 
till 1749. Coidd it be his father? This is equally 

or more unlikelj', for he was then a brigadier- 
general. It is to be observed that James Wolfe, 
though only nineteen at this time, was a captain in 
Barren's regiment (having received that com- 
mission in June 1744), and Barrell's regiment, we 
know, stood in the left of the front line of the 
royal army at CuUoden : a mistake of major for 
captain is easily conceivable. In the hope of 
getting conclusive evidence that the admired 
Wolfe was not involved in the personal barbarisms 
of Cumberland and Hawley, the editor of the 
Jacohite ]\[cm<)ivs wrote to Mr Southey, who, ho 
understood, was prepared to compile a memoir of 





General Wolfe from original materials ; and lie 
received the following answer : 

'Kesivkk, Uth August, 1833. 

* Sir, — Immediately upon recei\dng yom* obliging 
letter, I referred to my own notes and extracts from 
the corresiiondcncc of Wolfe with his family, the 
whole of which has been in my possession. 

' There I lind that his father was "with the Duke of 
Cumberland's army in 174.'), and that he himself was 
at Newcastle in the November of that year. His 
father was a general at that time ; and Wolfe, I think, 
was not yet a major (though I cannot immediately 
ascertain this), for he only received his lieutenant's* 
commission in June 1744. My present impression is 
that he was not in the Scotch campaign, and that the 
Major Wolfe of whom your papers speak must have 
been some other person. His earliest letter from 
Scotland is dated January 1749. 

' Tlu-onghout his letters Wolfe ajipears to have been 
a considerate, kinddiearted man, as much distinguished 
from most of his coutemporaiy officers by humane and 
gentlemanly feeling as by the zeal with which he 
devoted himself to his profession. All that has hitherto 
been kno-\vu of him tends to confirm this view of 
his character. 

' I am much obhged to you for your offer of the 
volume in which the paper is printed, and shall thank- 
fully receive it when it is published. Meantime, Sir, 
I have the honour to remain, &c. ' 

If, after all, there is nothing but character to 
plead against the conclusion that "Wolfe was the 
harsh message-bearer of the brutal Hawley, it is 
to be feared that the defence is a weak one. lu 
the ^ army which marched into -Scotland in 
1746, aud put down the rebellion, there was a 
general indignation aud contempt for the Scottish 
nation, disposing men otherwise humane to take 
very harsh measures. The ordinary laws were 
trampled on ; worthy friends of the government, 
who pleaded for mercy to the vanquished, were 
treated with contumely; some of the English 
officers Avere guilty of extreme cruelty towards 
the Highland peasantry. No one is remembered 
with more horror for his savage doings than a 
certain Captain Caroline Scott ; and yet this is 
the same man whom Mallet introduces in his 
poem of the Wedding Day as a paragon of amiable- 
ness. The verses are as follows : 

' A second see ! of special note. 
Plump Comus in a Colonel's coat ; 
Whom we this day expect from far, 
A jolly first-rate man of war ; 
On whom we boldly dare repose, 
To meet oiu- friends, or meet om- foes. ' 

To which the poet appends a prose note : 

'The late Col. Caroline Scott, who, though ex- 
tremely corpiUent, was uncommoidy active ; and who, 
to much skill, sphit, aud bravery, as an ofBcer, joined 
tlie fjrealest gentleness of manners as a companion and 
friend. He died a saci-ifice to the public, in the 
service of the East India Comiwny, at Bengal, in the 
year 1755.' 

If the Caroline Scott who tortured the poor 
Highlanders was really this gentle-natured man, 
the future hero of Quebec can be imao-iued 
as carrj'ing rough messages to the lady at 


* Mistake for ' captain's.' 

In the National Portrait Gallery, Westminster, 
there is a bust portrait of General Wolfe, repre- 
senting him in profile, and with a boyish cast of 


Ovid died at about the age of sixty-one. We 
have only imperfect accounts of the Roman bards ; 
but we know pretty clearly that Ovid lived 
as a gay and luxu- 
rious gentleman in 
IJome through the 
greater part of the 
reign of Augustus, 
and when past fifty 
was banished by that 
emperor, probably in 
consequence of his 
concern in some scan- 
dalous amour of a fe- 
male member of theim- 
perial family. Let us 
think of what it would be for a darling of London 
society like the late Thomas Moore to have been 
condemned to spend his days at a fishing-village in 
Friesland or Lapland, and we shall have some idea 
of the pangs of the unfortunate Naso on taking up 
his forced abode at Tomi on the Black Sea. His 
epistles thence are full of complaints of the 
severity of the climate, the wildness of the scenery, 
and the savage nature of the surrounding people. 
How much we find expressed in that well-known 
line addressed to a book which he sent from 
Tomi to be published in Rome : — ' Sine me, liber, 
ibis in urbem !' Yet it appears that the iidmbitants 
appreciated his literary reputation, and treated 
him with due respect ; also that he tried to accom- 
modate himself" to his new circumstances by 
learning their language. Death brought the only 
true relief which he could experience, after he 
had endured his exile at least eight years. It is 
an interesting instance of the respect which bril- 
liant talents extort even from the rudest, that a 
local monument was reared to Ovid, and that 
Tomi is now called Ovidiopol, or Ovid's City. 

' I have a veneration for Virgil,' says Dr King; 
' I admire Horace ; but I love Ovid. . . . Neither 
of these great poets knew how to move the passions 
so well as Ovid ; witness some of the tales of his 
Metamorphoses, particularly the story of Ceyx 
and Haley one, whch I never read without weep- 
ing. No judicious critic hath ever yet denied 
that Ovid has more wit than any other poet of 
the Augustan age. That he has too much, and 
that his fancy is too luxuriant, is the fault 
generally imputed to him. All the imperfections 
of Ovid are really pleasing. But who would not 
excuse all his faults on accoimt of his many 
excellencies, particidarly his descriptions, which 
have never been equalled.' * 


Alexander Wedderburn, Earl of Rosslyu, Lord 
Chancellor of England from 1793 to 1801, entered 
in his youth at the Scottish bar, but had from 

* Political and Literary Anecdotes of his own Times, 
by Dr William King, Principal of St Mary Hall, Oxon. 
1819, p. 30. 




the first an inclination to try the English, as a 
higher field of ambition. After going through 
the usual drudgeries of a young Scotch counsel 
for three years, he was determined into that 
career which ended in the English chancellorship 
by an accident. There flourished at that time at 
the northern bar a veteran advocate named Lock- 
hart, the Dean of the body, realising the highest 
income that had ever been known there, namely, 
a thousand a year, and only prevented from 
attaining the bench through the mean spite of 
the government, in consequence of his having 
gallantly gone to defend the otherwise helpless 
Scotch rebels at Carlisle in 1746.* Lockliart, 
with many merits, wanted that of a pleasant 
temper. He was habitually harsh and overbearing 
towards his juniors, four of whom (including Wed- 
derburn) at length agreed that, on the first occa- 
sion of his shewing any insolence towards one of 
them, he should publicly insult him, for which 
object it was highly convenient that the Dean 
had been once threatened with a caning, and that 
his wife did not bear a perfectly piu-e character. 
In the summer of 1757, Wedderburn chanced to 
be opposed to Lockhart, who, nettled probably 
by the cogency of his arguments, hesitated not to 
apply to him the appellation of ' a presumptuous 
boy.' The young advocate, rising afterwards to 
reply, poured out upon Lockhart a torrent of 
invective such as no one in that place had ever 
heard before. ' The learned Dean,' said he, ' has 
confined himself on this occasion to vituperation ; 
I do not say that he is capable of reasoning, but 
if tears would have answered his purpose, I am 
sure tears would not have been wanting.' Lock- 
hart started up and threatened him with ven- 
geance. ' I care little, my lords,' said "Wedder- 
burn, ' for what may be said or done by a man 
who has been disgraced in his person and dis- 
honoured in his bed.' The judges felt their 
flesh creep at the words, and Lord President 
Craigie could with difficulty summon energy to 
tell the young pleader that this was language 
unbecoming an advocate and unbecoming a gen- 
tleman. According to Lord Campbell, ' Wedder- 
bui"n, now in a state of such excitement as to 
have lost all sense of decorum and propriety, ex- 
clauned that " his lordship had said as a judge 
what he could not justify as a gentleman." The 
President appealed to his brethren as to what 
was fit to be done, who unanunously resolved 
that Mr TVedderbiirn should retract his words 
and make an humble apology, on pain of depri- 
vation. All of a sudden Wedderburn seemed 
to have subdued his passion, and put on an au* of 
deliberate coolness; when, instead of the expected 
retractation and apology, he stripped off his 
gown, and holding it in his hands before the 
judges, he said: "My lords, I neither retract 
nor apologise, but I wiU save you the trouble of 
deprivation ; there is my gown, and I will never 
wear it more ; virtute me involvo." He then 
coolly laid his gown upon the bar, made a low 
bow to the judges, and, before they had reco- 

* These particulars regarJing Lockhart are stated 
from the writer's recollection of a conversation in 1833 
with Sir William Macleod Baniiatyne, who had entered 
at the Scotch bar exactly seventij years hefore, while Lock- 
hart was still flourishing. 

vered from their amazement, he left the court, 
which he never again entered.' * 

It is said that he started that very day for 
London, where, thirty-six years afterwards, he 
attained the highest place which it is in tlie 
power of a barrister to reach. It is generally 
stated that he never revisited his native country 
till near the close of his life, after ]iis resignation 
of the chancellorship. 

There is something spirited, and which one 
admires and sympathises with, in the fact of a 
retort and reproof administered by a young bar- 
rister to an elderly one presuming upon his ac- 
quired reputation to be insolent and oppressive ; 
but the violence of Wedderburn's language can- 
not be justified, and such merit as there was in 
the case one would have wished to see in connec- 
tion with a name more noted for the social virtues, 
and less for a selfish ambition, than that of 
Alexander Wedderburn. 


The long resistance of the Moors to the Spanish 
troops of Eing Ferdinand and Isabella being at 
length overcome, arrangements were made for 
the surrender of their capital to the Spaniards. 
As the Bishop of AvUa passed in to take posses- 
sion of the Alhambra — the magnificent palace of 
the Moorish king — its former master mournfully 
passed out, saying only, ' Go in, and occupy the 
fortress which Allah has bestowed upon your 
powerful land, in pimishment of the sins of the 
Moors ! ' The Catholic sovereigns meanwhile 
waited in the vega below, to see the silver cross 
mounted on the tower of the Alhambra, the 
appointed symbol of possession. As it a^jpeared, 
a shout of joy rose from the assembled troops, 
and the choristers of the royal chapel broke forth 
with the anthem, Te Deum laudamus. 

BoabdU, king of the Moors, accompanied by 
about fifty horsemen, here met the Spanish sove- 
reigns, who generously refused to allow him to 
pay any outward homage to them, and delivered 
up to him, with expressions of kindness, his son 
who had been for some time in their hands as a 
hostage. Boabdil handed them the keys of the 
city, saying, ' Thine, O king, are our trophies, 
our kingdom, and our person ; such is the wUl 
of God ! ' After some further conversation, the 
Moorish king passed on in gloomy silence, to 
avoid witnessing the entrance of the Spaniards 
into the city. Coming at aboiit two leagues' 
distance to an elevated point, from which the 
last view of Granada was to be obtained, he could 
not restrain himself from turning round to take a 
parting look of that beautiful city which was lost 
to him and his for ever. ' God is great ! ' was 
all he could say; but a flood of tears burst from 
his eyes. His mother upbraided him for his 
softness ; but his vizier endeavoured to console 
him by remarking that even great misfortunes 
served to confer a certain distinction. 'Allah 
Achbar ! ' said he ; ' when did misfortunes ever 
equal mine ? ' 

' From this circumstance,' says Mr Irving, in 
his Chronicle of the Conquest of Grranada, ' the 
hill, which is not far from Padul, took the name 

* Lives of the Chancellors. 




of Fez Allah Aclihar ; but tlic point of view 
commanding the last prospect of Granada is 
known among Spaniards by tlie of El 
'Ultimo sitspiro del AToro, or the Last Sigli of tlie 

PROPHET.' 153G. 

It was in 1523 that tlio sect of the Anabaptists 
rose in Germany, so named because tliey wished 
that people should re-baptize their children, so as 
to imitate Jesus Christ, who had been baptized 
when grown up. Two fanatics named Storck 
and Muncer were the leaders of this sect, the 
most horrible that had ever desolated Germany. 

As Luther had raised princes, lords, and magis- 
trates against the Pope and the bishops, Muncer 
raised the peasants against the princes, lords, 
and magistrates. He and his disciples addressed 
themselves to the inhabitants of Swabia, Misnia, 
Thuringia, and Franconia, preaching to them 
the doctrine of an equality of conditions among 
men. Germany became the theatre of bloody 
doings. The peasantry rose in Saxony, even as 
far as iUsace ; they massacred all the gentlemen 
they met, including in the slaughter a daughter 
of the Emperor Jilaximilian I. ; they ravaged 
cveiy district to which they penetrated ; and it 
was ' not till after they had carried on these 
frightful proceedings for three years, that the 
regular troops got the better of them. Muncer, 
wiio had aimed at being a second Mahomet, 
perished on the scaffold at Mvilhausen. 

The chiefs, however, did not perish with him. 
The ])ea?ants Avere raised anew, and acquiring 
additional strength in Westphalia, they made 
themselves masters of the city of Munster, the 
bishop of which fled at their approach. They 
here endeavoured to establish a theocracy lihe 
that of the Jews, to be governed by God alone ; 
but one named Matthew their principal prophet 
being killed, a tailor lad, called John of Leydeu, 
assured them that God had appeared to him and 
named him king ; and Avhat he said the people 

The pomp of his coronation was magnificent. 
One can yet see the money which he struck ; he 
took as his armorial bearings two swords placed the 
same way as the keys of the Pope. Monarch and 
prophet in one, he sent forth twelve apostles to 
announce his reign throughout all Low Germany. 
After the example of the Hebrew sovereigns, he 
wished to have a number of wives, and he espoused 
twelve at one time. One having spoken dis- 
respectfully of him, he cut off her head in the 
presence of the rest, who, whether from fear or 
fanaticism, danced with him round the dead body 
of their companion. 

This prophet-king had one virtue — courage. 
He defended Munster against its bishop with 
unfaltering resolution during a whole year. 
Kotwithstanding the extremities to Avliich he 
Avas reduced, he refused all offers of accommoda- 
tion. At length he was taken, with arms in his 
hands, through treason among his own people ; 
and the bishop, after causing him to be carried 
about for some time from place to place as a 
monster, consigned him to the death reserved 
for all kings of his order. 


On the 2d of Janiiary 1756, at four in the 
afternoon, at Tuam, in Ireland, an unusual light, 
far above that of the brightest day, struck all the 
beholders with amazement. It then faded away 
by invisible degrees ; but at seven, from west to 
east, ' a sim of streamers ' appeared across the 
sky, undulating like the waters of a rippling 
stream. A general feeling of alarm was excited 
by this singular phenomenon. The streamers 
gradually became discoloured, and flashed away 
to the north, attended by a shock, which all felt, 
but which did no damage. — Gentleman s Magazine, 
xxvi. 39. The affair seems to have been an 
example of the aurora borealis, only singular in 
its being bright enough to tell upon the daylight. 

^Infouubcb but |)crsc(jcnng |)opulm; |Jotlan.?. 

Under this head may be ranked a belief 
amongst book-collectors, that certain books of 
uncommon elegance were, by a peculiar dllet- 
tanteism of the typographer, printed from sdver 
types. In reality, types of silver would not 
print a book more elegantly than types of the 
usual composite metal. The absurdity of the 
idea is also shewn by the circumstances under 
which books are for the most j)art composed ; 
some one has asked, very pertinently, if a set of 
thirsty compositors would not have quickly dis- 
covered ' how many ems, long primer, would 
purchase a gallon of beer.' It is surmised that 
the notion took its rise in a mistake of silver for 
Jilzevi)- type, such being the term applied early 
in the last century to types of a small size, simi- 
lar to those which had been used in the cele- 
brated miniature editions of the Amsterdam 
printers, the Elzevirs.* 

Another of these popular notions has a respect- 
ability about it, because, though not true, it pro- , 
ceeds on a conception of what is just and fitting. 
It represents all persons who have ever had any- 
thing to do with the invention or improvement of 
instruments of death, as suffering by them, gene- 
rally as the first to suffer by them. Many cases 
are cited, but on strict examination scarcely one 
would be found to be true. It has been asserted, 
for example, that Dr Guillotin of Paris, who 
caused the introduction into France of the Instru- 
ment bearing his name, was himself the first of 
its many victims ; whereas he in reality outlived 
the Eevolutlon, and died peaceably in ISl-i. Nor Is 
it irrelevant to keep in mind regarding Guillotin, 
that he was a man of gentle and amiable character, 
and proposed this instrument for execution as cal- 
culated to lessen the sufferings of criminals. So 
has it been said that the Ilegent Morton of Scot- 
land introduced the similar instrument called the 
Maiden into his country, having adopted it from 
an instrument for beheading which long stood la 
terror of the wicked at one of the gates of the 
town of Halifax in Yorkshire. But it is ascer- 
tained that, whether Morton introduced it or not 
— and there is no proof that he did — it was in 
operation at Edinburgh some years before his 
death ; first under the name of the Maiden, and 
afterwards under that of the Widow — a change 
* Notes and Queries, Mar. 16, ISGl. 




of appellation to wliich it would be entitled after 
the death, of its first bridegroom. 

It has likewise been represented that the drcqi 
used in hancjing was an improvement effected by 
an eminent joiner and town-councillor of nulin- 
burgh, the famous Deacon Brodie, and that when 
he was hanged in October 1788 for housebreak- 
ing, he was the first to put the utility of the plan 
to the proof. But it is quite certain that, whe- 
ther Brodie made this improvement or not, he 
was not the first person to test its serviceable- 
ness, as it appears to have been in operation at 
least three years before his death. * Even his 
title to the improvement must be denied, except, 
jjerhaps, as far as regards the introduction of it 
into practice in Edinburgh, as some such contri- 
vance was used at the execution of Earl Ferrei's 
in 1760, being part of a scaffold which the family 
of the unfortunate nobleman caused their under- 
taker to prepare on that occasion, that his lord- 
ship might not swing ofl" from a cart like a 
])lebeian culprit. ' There was,' says Horace 
AValpole, ' a new contrivance for sinking the 
stage under him, which did not play well ; and 
he suffered a little by the delaj-, but was dead in 
four minutes.' 

It is much to be feared that there is no belief of 
any kind more extensively diffused in England, 
or more heartily entertained, than that which 
represents a Queen Anne's farthing as the greatest 
and most valuable of rarities. The story every- 
where told and accepted is, that only three far- 
things were struck in her reign : that two are in 
public keeping ; and that the third is still going 
about, and if it could be recovered would bring 
a prodigious price. 

In point of fact, there were eight coinings of 
farthings in the reign of Queen Anne, besides a 
medal or token of similar size, and these coins 
are no greater rarities than any other product of 
the Mint issued a hundred and fifty years ago. 
Every now and then a poor person comes up from 
a remote place in the country to London, to sell 
ilie Queeu Anne's farthing, of which he has 
become the fortunate possessor ; and great, of 
course, is the disappointment when the numis- 
matist offers him perhaps a shilling for the curio- 
sity, justifying the lowness of the price by pulling 
out a drawer and shewing him eight or ten other 
examples of the same coin. On one occasion, a 
laI)ourer and his wife came all the way from York- 
shire on foot to dispose of one of these provoking 
coins in the metropolis. It is related that a rural 
publican, having obtained one of the tokens, put 
it up in his Avindow as a curiosity, and people 
came from far and near to see it, doubtless not a 
little to the alleviation of his beer barrels; nor 
did a statement of its real value by a numismatist, 
wl,o happened to come to his house, induce him 
to put it away. About 1814, a confectioner's 
shopman in Dublin, having taken a Queen Anne's 
farthing, substituted an ordinary farthing for it 
in his master's till, and endeavoured to make a 
good thing for himself by selling it to the best 
advantage. The master, hearing of the trans- 
* Tlie f>cots Jfai/adne, in relating the execution of one 
William Mills for liousebreaking, 21st Seotember 178:), 
says, that ' pnvt of the platform on which he stood 
dropped a few minutes before three.' 

action, had the man apprehended and tried in 
the Recorder's Court, when he was actually con- 
demned to a twelvemonth's imprisonment for the 

Numismatists have set forth, as a possible reason 
for the universalbeliefin the rarity of Queen Anne's 
farthings, that there are several imttcni-pieces of 
farthings of her reign in silver, and of beauti- 
ful execution, by Croker, which are rare and in 
request. But it is very unlikely that the appre- 
ciation of such an article amongst men of verta 
would ever impress the bulk of the people in 
such a manner or to such results. A more plau- 
sible story is, that a lady in the north of England, 
having lost a Queen Anne's farthing or pattern- 
piece, which she valued as a keepsake, advertised 
a reward for its recovery. In that case, the 
popular imagination would easUy devise the 
remainder of the tale. 

That pecidiar phase of superstition which has 
regard to lucky or unlucky, good or evil days, is 
to be found in all ages and climes, wherever the 
mystery-man of a tribe, or the sacerdotal caste of 
a nation, has acquired rule or authoritj- over the 
minds of the people. All over the East, among 
the populations of antiquity, are to be found 
traces of this almost universal worship of Luck. 
It is one form of that culture of the beneficent and 
the maleficent principles, which marks the belief 
in good and evil, as an antagonistic duality of 
gods. From ancient Egypt the evil or unlucky 
days have received the name of ' Egyptian days".' 
Nor is it only in pagan, but in Christian times, 
that this superstition has held its potent sway. 
No season of year, no month, no week, is free 
from those untoward days on which it is danger- 
ous, if not fatal, to begin any enterprise, work, or 
travel. They begin with New- Year's Day, and they 
only end with the last day of December. Passing 
over the heathen augurs, who predicted fortu- 
nate days for sacrifice or trade, wedding or war, 
let us see what our Anglo-Saxon forefathers 
believed in this matter of days. A Saxon MS. 
{Cott. MS. Vitell, C. viii. fo. 20) gives the follow- 
ing account of these Dies Mali : — ' Three days 
there are in the year, which we call Egyptian 
days ; that is, in our language, dangerous days, 
on any occasion Avhatever, to the blood of man or 
beast. In the month which we call April, the 
last Monday ; and then is the second, at the 
coming in of the month we call August ; then is 
the third, which is the first Slonday of the going 
out* of the mouth of December. He who on 
these three days reduces blood, be it of man, be 
it of beast, this we have heard say, that speedily 
on the first or seventh day, his life he will end. 
Or if his life be longer, so that he come not to 
the seventh day, or if he drink some time in 
these three days, he will end his life ; and he 
that tastes of goose-flesh, within forty days' space 
his life he will end.' 

In the ancient Exeter Xalendar, a MS. said to 

* Tlie coming in of a month consisted of the first 15 
days in the month (or 16 if it had .31 days); the going 
out, of the last 15 days of any month. 





be of ihe age of Henry II., the first or Kalcuds 
of January is set down as ' Dies Mala.' 

Tkcse Saxon Kalendars give us a total of about 
21 evil days in the 305 ;"or about one such in 
every fifteen. But the sujierstition ' lengthened 
its eords and strengthened its stakes ; ' it seems 
to have been felt or feared that the black days 
had but too small a hold on their regnrders ; so 
they Avere multiplied. 

'Astronomers say that six days of the year are 
perilous of death ; and therefore they forbitl men to 
lot blood on theTU, or take any drink ; that is to 
say, January 3, July 1, October 2, the last of April, 
August 1, the last day going out of December. These 
six days Anth great diligence ought to be kept, but 
n.aniely [mainly ?] the latter three, for all the veins 
are then full. For then, whether man or beast bo 
kuit in them within 7 days, or certainly within 14 
days, he shall die. And if they take any diinks 
A\-ithin 15 days, they sliall die ; and if they eat any 
goose in these 3 daj^s, withi^ 40 days they shall die ; 
and if any child be born in these 3 Latter days, they 
shall the a wicked death. Astronomers and astrologers 
say that in the beginning of March, the seventh night, 
or the fomtcenth daj^, let the blood of the right arm ; 
and in the beginning of April, the 11th day, of the 
left arm ; and in the end of May, 3d or 5th day, on 
whether aim thou wilt ; and thus, of all the year, 
thou shalt orderly be kept from the fever, the falling 
gout, the sister gout, and loss of thy sight.' — Booh of 
Knowledge, h. 1. p. 19, 

Those who may be inclined to pursue this 
subject more fully, will find an essay ou ' Day- 
Fatality, ' in John Aubrey's Miscellanies, in 
which he notes the days lucky and unlucky, of 
the Jews, Greeks, Eomans, and of various distin- 
guished individuals of later times. 

In a comparatively modern MS. Kalendar, of 
the time of Henry Yl., in the writer's possession, 
one page of vellum is filled with the following, of 
which we modernise the spelling : — 

' These imderA\Titten be the perilous days, for to 
take any sickness in, or to be hurt in, or to be wedded 
in, or to take any jom-uey U2:)on, or to begin any work 
on, that he wordd Avell speed. The number of these 
days be in the year 32 ; they be these :— 

In January there be 7 :— 1st, 2d, 4th, 5th, 7th, 
lOth, and 15th. 

In February be 3 :— 6th, 7th, and 18th. 

In March be 3 :— 1st, 6th, and Sth. 

In April be 2 :— 6th and 11th. 

In jSIay be 3 :— 5th, 6th, and 7th. 

In June be 2 : — 7th and loth. 

In Jidy be 2 :— 5th and 19th. 

In August be 2 :— 15th and 19th. 

In September be 2 : — 6th and 7th. 

In October is 1 : — 6th. 

In November be 2 : — 15th and 16th. 

In December be 3 :— 15th, 16th, aod 17th.' 

The copyist of this dread list of evil days, m hile 
apparently giving the superstition a qualified 
credence, manifests a higher and nobler faith, 
liftmg his aspiration above days and seasons ; for 
he has appended to the catalogue, in a bold firm 
hancl of the time—' Sed tamen in Domino con- 
fido.' (But, notwithstanding, I will trust in the 
Lord.) IM'either in this Kalendar, nor in another 
of the same owner, prefixed to a small MS. volume 
contaming a copy of Magna Charta, &c., is there 
inserted in the body of the Kalendar anvthin"- to 

denote a ' Dies Mala.' After the Eeformation, 
the old evil days appear to have abated much of 
the ancient malevolent influences, and to have 
left behind them only a general superstition 
against fishermen setting out to fish, or seamen 
to take a voyage, or landsmen a journey, or 
domestic servants to enter on a new place — on a 
Friday. In many country districts, especially in 
the north of England, no weddings take place 
ou Friday, from this cause. According to a 
rhyming proverb, ' Friday's moon, come when 
it will, comes too soon.' Sir Thomas Overbury, 
in his charming sketch of a milkmaid, says, 
'Her dreams are so chaste, that she dare tell 
them ; only a Friday's dream is all her super- 
stition ; and she consents for fear of anger.' 
Erasmus dwells on the ' extraordinary inconsis- 
tency' of the English of his day, in eating flesh 
in Lent, yet holding it a heinous ofience to eat 
any on a Friday out of Lent. The Friday su- 
perstitions cannot be wholly explained by the 
fact that it was ordained to be held as a fast 
by the Christians of Eomc. Some portion of 
its maleficent character is probably due to the 
character of the Scandinavian Venus Freya, 
the Avife of Odin, and goddess of fecundity. 
But we are met on the other hand by the fact 
that amongst the Brahmins of India a like super- 
stitious aversion to Friday prevails. They say 
that ' on this clay no business must be com- 
menced.' * And herein is the fate foreshadowed 
of any antiquary who seeks to trace one of our 
still lingering superstitions to its source. Like the 
bewildered traveller at the cross roads, he knows 
not which to take. One leads him into the 
ancient Teuton forests ; a second amongst the 
wilds of Scandinavia ; a third to papal, and thence 
to pagan liome ; and a fourth carries him to the 
far east, and there he is left with the conviction 
that much of what is old and quaint and strange 
among us, of the superstitious relics of our fore- 
elders, has its root deej) in the soil of one of the 
ancient homes of the race. 


St Peter Balsam, martj'r, 311 ; St Anterus,' pope, 235 j 
St Gordius, martyr ; Ste GeneviJive, ■virgin, 


Sainte Genevieve, who has occupied, from the 
time of her death to the present clay, the distin- 
guished position of Patroness Saint of the city of 
Paris, lived in the fifth century, when Christi- 
anity, under corrupted forms, was contending 
with paganism for domination over the minds of 
rude and warlike races of men. Credible facts 
of this early period are few, obscure, and not 
easily separated from the fictions with which 
they have been combined ; but the following 
princix^al events of the life of Ste Gienevieve 
may be taken as probably authentic : — She was 
born in the year 422, at Nanterre, a village about 
four miles from Paris. At the early age of seven, 
years she was consecrated to the service of re- 
ligion by St Germanus, bishop of Auxerre, who 
happened to pass through the village, and was 

* Dr Buchanan, Asiat. Res., vol. vi. p. 172. 




struck with lier devotioual manners. At the age 
of fifteen years slie received the veil from the 
hands of the Archbishop of Paris, in which city 
she afterwards resided. By strict observance of 
the services of the Church, and by the practice 
of those austerities which were then regarded as 
the surest means of obtaining the blessedness of 
a future state, she acquired a reputation for 
sanctity which gave her considerable influence 
over the rulers and leaders of the people. AVhen 
the Franks under Clovis had subdued the city of 
Paris, her solicitations are said to have moved 
t]ie conqueror to acts of clemency and generosity. 
The miracles ascribed to Ste Genevieve may be 
passed over as hardly likely to obtain much 
credence in the present age. The date of her 
death has been fixed on January 3d, 512, five 
months after the decease of king Clovis. She 
was buried near him in the church of St Peter 
and St Paul, since named the church of Saiute 
Genevieve. The present handsome structure 
was completed in 1764. During the revolution- 
ary period it was withdrawn from the services of 
religion, and named the Pantheon, but has since 
been restored to ecclesiastical uses and to its 
former name of Sainte Genevieve. Details of 
her life are given inBollandus's 'Acta Sanctorum,' 
and in Butler's ' Lives of the Saints.' 

Born. — Marcus Tullius Cicero, B.C. 107; Douglas 
Jcriold, 1803. 

Bied. — Jeremiah Horrox, mathematician, 1641 ; George 
Monk, Duke of Albemarle, 1670; Josiah Wedgwood, 
1795 ; Charles Robert Maturin, novelist, 1842 ; Eliot 
Warburton, historical novelist, 1852. 


Cicero, like nearly every other great man, gives 
in his life a testimony to the value and necessity 
of diligent culture of the mind for the attainment 
of eminence. His education for oratory was 
most laborious. He himself declared that no man 
ought to pretend to the character of an orator with- 
out being previously acquainted with everj'thing 
worth knowing in nature and art, as eloquence 
unbased upon knowledge is no better than the 
prattle of a child. He was six-aud-tweuty before 
he considered himself properly accomplished for 
his profession. ' He had learned the rudiments of 
grammar and languages from the ablest teachers ; 
gone through the stiidies of humanity and the 
politer letters with the poet Archias ; been in- 
structed in philosophy hj the principal professors 
of each sect — Ph?edrus the Epicurean, Philo the 
Academic, andDiodotus the Stoic; acquired a per- 
fectknowledgeof the lawfrom the greatest lawyers 
as well as the greatest statesmen of Eome, the 
two Sccevolas ; aU which accomplishments were 
but ministerial and subservient to that on which 
his hopes and ambition were singly placed, the 
reputation of an orator. To qualify himself there- 
fore for this, lie attended the pleadings of all the 
speakers of his time ; heard the daily lectures of 
the most eminent orators of Greece, and was 
perpetually composing somewhat at home, and do- 
claiming under their correction; and, that he might 
neglect nothing which might in any degree help 
to improve and polish his style, he spent the inter- 

vals of Ms leisure in the company of the ladies ; 
especially of those who were remarkable for a 
politeness of language, and whose fatliers had been 
distinguished by a fame and reputation for elo- 
quence. While he studied the law, therefore, 
under Sca;vola the augur, he frequently conversed 
with his wife Lselia, whose discourse, he says, 
was tinctured with all the elegance of her father 
Ljelius, the politest speaker of his age : he was 
acquainted likewise with her daughter Mucia, 
who married the great orator Lucius Crassus ; 
and with her granddaughters the two Liciniaj, 
.... who all excelled in that delicacy of the 
Latin tongue which was peculiar to their families, 
and valued themselves on preserving and propa- 
gating it to their posterity.' — Meknoth's LiJ'e of 


The most curious portion of Monk's private 
history is his marriage to Anne, daughter of John 
Clarges, a farrier in the Savoy in the Strand. 
She Avas fii'st married to Thomas lladford, late 
farrier : they lived at the Three Spanish Gip- 
sies in the New Exchange, Strand, and sold 
wash-balls, powder, gloves, &c., and she taught 
plain work to girls. In 1647 she became semp- 
stress to Monk, and used to carry him linen. In 
1649 she and her husband fell out and parted; 
but no certificate of any parish-register appears 
recording his burial. In 1652 she was married 
at the Church of St George, Southwai-k, to 
General Monk, though it is said her first husband 
was living at the time. In the following year 
she was delivered of a son, Christopher, who 
' was suckled by Honour Mills, who sold apples, 
herbs, oysters, &e.' The father of '' Nan Clarges,' 
according to Aubrey's Lives (written about 
1680), had his forge upon the site of No. 317, on 
the north side of the Strand. ' The shop is still 
of that trade,' says Aubrey ; ' the coimer shop, 
the first turning, on y= right hand, as you come 
ou.t the Strand into Drury Lane : the house is 
now built of brick.' The house alluded to is 
believed to be that at the right-hand corner of 
Drury Court, now a butcher's. The adjoining 
house, in the coui't, is now a whitesmith's, with a 
forge, &c. Nan's mother was one of Five Women 
Barbers, celebrated in her time. Nan is desciibed 
by Clarendon as a person ' of the lowest extrac- 
tion, without either wit or beauty ; ' and Aubrey 
says ' she was not at all handsome nor cleanl}-,' 
and that she was seamstress to Monk, when he 
was imprisoned in the Tower. She is known to 
have had great control and authority over him. 
Upon his being raised to a dukedom, and her 
becoming Duchess of Albemarle, her father, the 
farrier, is said to have raised a Maypole in the 
Strand, nearly opposite his forge, to commemorate 
his daughter's good fortune. She died a few days 
after the Duke, and is interred by his side in 
Henry the Seventh's Chapel, Westminster xibbey. 
The Duke was succeeded by his son, Christopher, 
who married Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, graud- 
daugliter of the Duke of Newcastle, and died 
chiklless. The Duchess' brother, Thomas Clar- 
ges, was a pliysician of note ; was created a 
baronet in 1674, and was ancestor to the baronets; 
whence is named Clarges Street, Piccadilly. 



THE book: of days. 



Josiali AYodi;\vooi.l, celebrated for lus valuable 
improvements in the manufacture of earthenware, 
■was born July 1-th 1730. at 13urslem. in Stafford- 
shire, where "his father and others of the family 
had for many years been employed in the potteries. 
At the early age of eleven years, his father being 
tluMi dead, he worked as a thrower iu a pottery 
belonging to his elder brother; and he continued 
to be thus employed till disease in his right leg 


compelled him to relintjuish the potter's wheel, 
and ultimately to have the limb cut off' below the 
knee. He then began to occupy himself in 
making imitations of agates, jaspers, and other 
coloured stones, by combining metallic oxides 
with different clays, which he formed into kuife- 
handles. small boxes, and ornaments for the 
mantelpiece. After various movements in busi- 
ness, he finally settled in a pottery of his own, 
at Burslem, where he continued for a time to 
make the small ornamental articles which had 
first brought him into notice, but by degrees 
began to manufacture fine earthenware for the 
table. He was successful, and took a second 
manufactorj', where he made white stoneware ; 
and then a third, where he produced a deli- 
cate cream-coloured ware, of which he pre- 
sented some articles to Queen Charlotte, who 
was so well pleased with them and with a com- 
plete service which he executed by order, that 
she appointed him her potter. The new kind of 
earthenware, under the name of Queen's ware, 
became fashionable, and orders from the nobility 
and gentry flowed in upon him. He took into 
partnership Mr Bentley, son of the celebrated 
-Dr Bentley, and opened a warehouse in London, 
where the goods were exhibited and sold. Mr 
Bentley, who was a man of learning and taste, 
and had a large circle of acquaintance among 
men of rank and science, superintended the busi- 
ness in the metropolis. Wedgwood's operations 
in earthenware and stoneware included the pro- 
duction of various articles of ornament for the 
cabinet, the drawing-room, and the boudoir. To 
facilitate the conveyance of his goods, as well as 
of materials required for the manufacture, he 
contributed a large sum towards the formation of 
the Trent and Mersey Canal, which was com- 
pleted in 1770. On the bank of this canal, 

while it was in progress, he erected, near 
Stoke, a large manufactory and a handsome man- 
sion for his own residence, and there he built the 
village of Etruria, consisting chiefly of the 
habitations of his workmen. He died there on 
the 3d of January 1795, in the 65th year of his 
age. He was married, and had several children. 
To Wedgwood originally, and to him almost 
exclusively during a period of more than thirty 
years. Great Britain was indebted for the rapid 
improvement and vast extension of the earthen- 
ware manufacture. During the early part of 
his life England produced only brown pottery 
and common articles of white earthenware for 
domestic use. The finer wares for the opulent 
classes of society, as well as porcelain, were im- 
ported from Holland, Germany, and France. He 
did not extend his operations to the manufacture 
of porcelain — the kaolin, or china-cla}% not hav- 
ing been discovered in Cornwall till he w^as far 
advanced in life; but his earthenwares were of 
such excellence in quality, in form, and in beauty 
of ornamentation, as in a great degree to super- 
sede the foreign china-wares, not only in this 
country, but in the markets of the civilised 
world. "W^edgwood's success was the result of 
experiments and trials, conducted with perse- 
vering industry on scientific principles. He 
studied the chemistry of the aluminous, silicious, 
and alkaline earths, colouring substances, and 
glazes, which he employed. He engaged the 
most skilful artisans and artists, and superin- 
tended assiduously the operations of the work- 
sho]) and the kiln. In order to ascertain and regu- 
late the heat of his furnaces, he invented a pyro- 
meter, by which the higher degrees of temperature 
might be accurately measured : it consisted of 
small cylinders of pure white clay, with an 
apparatus which showed the degrees of diminu- 
tion in length which the cylinders underwent 
from the action of the fire. Besides the manu- 
facture of the superior kinds of earthenware for 
the table and domestic jnirposes, he produced a 
great variety of works of fine art, such as imi- 
tations of cameos, intaglios, and other antique 
gems, vases, urns, busts, medallions, and other 
objects of curiosity and beauty. His imitations 
of the Etruscan vases gained him great celebrity, 
and were purchased largely. He also executeil 
fifty copies of the Portland vase, which were sold 
for fifty guineas each. 


No one that has seen Douglas Jerrold can 
ever forget him— -a tiny round-shouldered man, 
with a pale aquiline visage, keen bright grey 
eyes, and a profusion of iron-brown hair ; usually 
rather taciturn (though with a never-ceasing play 
of eye and lips) till an opportunity occurred for 
shooting forth one of those flashes of viit which 
made him the conversational chief of his da3\ 
The son of a poor manager haunting Sheerness, 
Jeri'old owed little to education or early connec- 
tion. He entered life as a midshipman, but early 
gravitated into a London literary career. His 
first productions were plays, whereof one, based 
on the ballad of ' Black-eyed Susan ' (written 
when the author was scarce twenty), obtained 
such success as redeemed theatres and made 




theatrical reputations, and yet Jerrold never real- 
ised from it above seventy pounds. He also 
wrote novels, but his cliief ^jroductlons wei-e 
contributions to periodicals. In this walk he had 
for a loni^ course of years no superior. His 
' Candle Lectures,' contributed to Punch, were 
perliaps the most attractive series of articles that 
ever appeared in any periodical work. 


The drollery of liis writings, though acknow- 
ledged to be great, would not perhaps have made 
Douglas Jerrold the remarkable power he was, if 
he had not also possessed such a singular strain 
of colloquial repartee. In his day, no man in the 
metropolis was one half so noted for the brilliancy 
and originality of his sayings. Jerrold's wit 
proved itself to be, unlike Sheridan's, unpremedi- 
tated, for his best sayings were answers to re- 
marks of others ; often, indeed, they consisted of 
clauses or single words deriving their signiiieancy 
from their connection with what another person 
had said. Seldom or never did it consist of a pun 
or quibble. Generally, it derived its value from 
the sense lying under it. Always sharp, often 
caustic, it was never morose or truly ill-natured. 
Jerrold was, in reality, a kind-hearted man, full 
of feeling and tenderness ; and of true goodness 
and worth, talent and accomplishment, he was 
ever the hearty admirer. 

Specimens of conversational wit apart from the 
circumstances Avhich produced them, are mani- 
festly placed at a great disadvantage ; yet some 
of .Jerrold's good things bear repetition in print. 
Ilis definition of dogmatism as 'puppyism come 
to maturity,' might be printed by itself in large 
type and put upon a church-door, without suffer- 
ing any loss of point. What he said on passing 
the flamiiigly uxorious epitaph put up by a famous 
cook on his wife's tomb — ' Mock Turtle ! ' — might 
equally have been placed on the tomb itself with 
perfect preservation of its poignancy. Similarly 
independent of all external aid is the keenness of 
his answer to a fussy clergyman, who was ex- 
pressing opinions very revolting to Jerrold, — to 
the effect that the real evil of modern times was 

the surplus population — ' Yes, the surplice popu- 
lation.' It is related that a prosy old gentleman, 
meeting him as he was passing at his usual quick 
pace along llegeut Street, poised himself into an 
attitude, and began : ' Well, Jerrold, my dear boy, 
what is going on ? ' 'I am,' said the wit, instantly 
shooting off. Such is an example of the brief 
fragmentary character of the ^\ it of Jerrold. On 
another occasion it consisted of but a mono- 
syllable. It was at a dinner of artists, that a 
barrister present, having his health drunk in 
connection with the law, began an embarrassed 
answer by saying he did not see how the law 
coidd be considered as one of the arts, when 
Jerrold jerked in the word ' black,' and threw the 
company into convulsions. A bore in company 
remarking how charmed he was with the Prodir/ue, 
and that there was one particular song which 
always quite carried him away, — ' Would that I 
could sing it ! ' ejaculated the wit. 

What a profound rebuke to the inner conscious- 
ness school of modern poets there is in a little 
occui'reuce of Jerrold's life connected with a 
volume of the writings of Eobert Browning ! 
When recovering from a violent fit of sickness, he 
had been ordered to refrain from all reading and 
writing, which he had obeyed wonderfully well, 
although he found the monotony of a seaside life 
very trying to his active mind. One mbrning ho 
had been left by Mrs Jerrold alone, while she 
had gone shopping, and during her absence a 
parcel of books from London arrived. Among 
them was Browning's ' Sordello,' which he 
commenced to read. Line after line, and page 
after l^age was devoured by the convalescent wit, 
but not a consecutive idea could he get from that 
mystic production. The thought then struck 
him that he had lost his reason during his illness, 
and that he was so imbecile that he did not know 
it. A perspiration burst from his brow, and he 
sat silent and thoughtful. When his wife returned, 
he thrust the mysterious vohune into her hands, 
crying out, ' Eead this, my dear ! ' After several 
attempts to make any sense out of the first page 
or so, she returned it, saying, ' Bother the gibber- 
ish ! I don't understand a word of it ! ' ' Thank 
Heaven,' cried the delighted wit ; ' then 1 am 
not an idiot ! ' 

His Avinding up a review of Wordsworth's 
poems was equally good. ' He reminds me," 
said Jerrold, ' of the Beadle of Parnassus, strut- 
ting about in a cocked hat, or, to be more 
poetical, of a modern Moses, who sits on Pisgah 
Avith his back obstinately turned to that promised 
laud the Future ; he is only fit for those old maid 
tabbies, the Muses! His Pegasus is a broken- 
winded hack, with a grammatical bridle, and a 
monosyllabic bit between his teeth ! ' 

Mr J31anchard Jerrold, in his Life of his father, 
groups a few additional good things which will 
not here be considered superfluous. ' A dinner 
is discussed. Douglas Jerrold listens quietly, 
possibly tired of dinners, and declining pressing 
invitations to be present. In a few minutes he 
will chime in, " If an earthquake were to engulf 
England to-morrow, the English would manage 
to meet and dine somewhere among the rubbish, 
just to celebrate the event." A friend drops in, 
and walks across the smoking-room to Douglas 





Jen-old's cliair. The friend -svants to rouse Mr 
Jerrold's sympathies in behalf of a mutual ac- 
quaintaneo' Avho is in -want of a round sum of 
money. But this mutual friend has already sent 
his hat about among his literary brethren on 

more than one occasion. Mr 's hat is 

becoming an institution, and friends -were grieved 
at the indelicacy of the ijrocceding. On the 
occasion to which I now rotcr, the bearer of the 
hat was received by my father with evident dis- 
satisfaction. " Well," said Douglas Jerrold, "how 

much does want this time ? " " Why, 

iust a four and two noughts will, I thinlc, put 
liim straight." the bearei* of the hat replied. 
Jcrrohl — " Well, put me down for one of the 
noughts." '"The Chain of Events," playing at 
the "Lyceiun Theatre, is mentioned. " Humph ! " 
says "Douglas Jerrold. " I'm afraid the man- 
ager will llnd it a door chain, strong enough 
to Iceep everybody out of the house." Then 
some somewhat lackadaisical yovmg members 
drop in. They assimie that the Club is not 
sufficiently west; they hiut at something near 
Pall-]\rall and a little more style. Douglas 
Jerrold rebukes them. " No, no, gentlemen^; 
not near Pall-Mall: we might catch coronets." 
A stormy discussion ensues, during which a 
gentleman rises to settle the matter in dis- 
pute. AVaving his hands majestically over the 
excited disputants, he begins : " Gentlemen, all 
I want is common sense." " Exactly," says 
Douglas Jerrold, "that is precisely what you 
do want." The discussion is lost in a burst 
of laughter. The talk lightly passes to the 
■wi-itings of a certain Scot. A member holds 
that the Scot's name should be handed down 
to a grateful posterity. Douglas Jerrold — " I 
quite agree with you that he should have an 
itch in the Temple of Fame." Brown drops 
in. Brown is said by all his friends to be the 
toady of Jones. The assurance of Jones in a 
room is the proof that Brown is in the passage. 
When Jones has the influenza, Brown dutifully 
catches a cold in the head. Douglas Jerrold to 
Brown — "■ Have you heard the rumour that's 
flying about town ? " " No." " Well, they 
say Jones pays the dog-tax for you." Douglas 
Jerrold is seriously disappointed with a certain 
book written by one of his friends, and has 
expressed his disappointment. Friend — " I have 

heard you said was the worst book I 

ever wrote." Jerrold — !' No, I didn't. I said it 
was the worst book anybody ever wrote." A 
supper of sheep's-heads is pi'oposed, and pre- 
sently served. One gentleman present is particu- 
larly enthusiastic on the excellence of the dish, 
and, as he throws down his knife and fork, 
exclaims, "Well, sheep's-head for ever, say I ! " 
Jerrold. — " There's egotism ! " ' 

It is worth while to note the succession of the 
prime jokers of London before Jerrold. The 
series begins Avith King Charles II., to whom 
succeeded the Earl of Dorset, after whom came 
the Earl pi Chesterfield, who left his mantle to 
George Selwj^n, whose successor was a man he 
detested, Bichard Brinsley Sheridan ; after whom 
was Jekyl, then Theodore Hook, whose successor 
was Jerrold : eight in all during a term of nearly 
two hundred years. 


Pepys relates, in that singular chi'onicle of 
gossip, his Diary, iinder January 3, 1661, that he 
went to the theatre and saw the Beggar s Bush 
well performed ; ' the first time,' says he, ' that 
ever I saw women come lypon the stage.' 

This was a theatre in Gibbon's Tennis Court, 
A^'cre Street, Clare Market, which had been 
opened at the recent restoration of the monarchy, 
after the long theatrical blank under the reign of 
the Puritans. It had heretofore been customary 
for young men to act the female parts. All 
Shakspeare's heroines were thus awkwardly 
enacted for the first sixty years. At length, on 
the restoration of the stage, it was thought that 
the public might perhaps endure the indecorum 
of female acting, and the venture is believed to 
have been first made at this theatre on the 8th 
of December 1660, when a lady acted Desdemona 
for the first time. 

CoUey Gibber gives a comic traditional story 
regarding the time when this fashion was coming 
in. ' Though women,' says he, ' were not ad- 
mitted to the stage tiU the return of King 
Charles, yet it could not be so suddenly supplied 
with them, but that there was still a necessity, 
for some time, to put the handsomest young men 
into petticoats, which Kyuaston was said to have 
then worn with success ; particularly in the part 
of Evadne in the Maid's Tragedi], which I have 
heard him speak of, and which calls to my mind 
a ridiculous distress that arose from that sort of 
shifts which the stage was then put to. The 
king, coming before his usual time to a tragedy, 
found the actors not ready to begin ; when his 
Majesty, not choosing to have as much patience 
as ills good subjects, sent to them to know the 
meaning of it ; upon which the master of the 
company came to the box, and rightly judging 
that the best excuse for their default would be 
the true one, fairly told his Majesty that the 
queen was not shaved yet. The king, whose 
good humour loved to laugh at a jest as well as 
make one, accepted the excuse, which served to 
divert him till the male queen could be efienii- 
nated. Kynaston was at that time so beautiful 
a youth, that the ladies of quality prided them- 
selves in taking him with them in their coaches 
to Hyde Park in his theatrical habit, after the 
play, which in those days they might have suffi- 
cient time to do, plays then were used to 
begin at four o'clock.' * 

iljc porn §ooli. 

In the manuscript account books of the Archer 
family, quoted by Mr HaUiwell in his elaborate 
notes on Shakspeare, occurs this entry : 'Jan. 8, 
1715-16, one horn-book for Mr Eyres, 00 : 00 : 02.' 
The article referred to as thus purchased at two- 
pence Avas one once most familiar, but now known 
only as a piece of antiquity, and that rather 
obscurely. The remark has been very justly 
made, that many books, at one time enjoying a 
more than usually great circulation, are precisely 
those likely to become the scarcest in a succeed- 
* Gibber's Apology for his Oion Life. 




ing age ; for example, nearly all sehool-boolcs, 
and. aboye all, a Horn-Book. Down to the time 
of George II., there was perhaps no kind of book 
so largely and universally difiused as this said 
horn-book ; at present, there is perhaps no book 
of that reign, of which it would be more difficult 
to procure a copy. 

The annexed representation is copied from one 
given by Mr Halliwell, as taken from a black- 
letter example which was found some years ago 
in pulling down an old farm-house at Middleton, 
in Derbyshire. A portrait of King Charles I. 
in armour on horseback was upon the reverse, 
affording us an approximation to the date. 

t.T, be tf bo bt.v 
f<l. cc cv PD ^u 
fcft. M \jf. qc» hxi 

i XK 

i\\ 0^ ^}^li 

i|^,tiea..1)aUoiȣ() hahTMm 



Tlic horn-book was the Primer of our ancestors 
— their established means of leai'ning the elements 
of English literature. It consisted of a single 
leaf, containing on one side the alphabet large 
and small — in black-letter or in Eoman — with 
perhaps a small regiment of monosyllables, and 
a copy of the Lord's Prayer ; and this leaf was 
usually set in a frame of wood, with a slice of 
diaphanous hoi-n in front — hence the name 
//or«-book. Generally there was a handle to 
hold it by, and this handle had usually a hole for 
a string, whereby the apparatus was slung to the 
girdle of the scholar. In a View of iJte Beau 
Monde, 1731, p. 52, a lady is described as ' dressed 
like a child, in a bodice coat and leading-strings, 
with a horn-book tied to her side.' A various 

kind of horn-book gave the leaf simply pasted 
against a slice of horn ; but the one more gener- 
ally in use was that above described. It is to it 
that Shenstone alludes in his beautifid cabinet- 
picture-poem, The Schoolmistress, where he tells 
of the children, how 

' Then- books of statm-e smaU they take in hand, 

Wliich with pellncid horn secured are, 
" To save from fingers wet the letters fair.' 

It ought not to be forgotten that the alphabet 
on the horn-book was invariably prefaced with a 
Cross : whence it came to be called the Christ 
Cross liow, or by corruption the Criss Cross 
How, a term which was often used instead of 

In earlier times, it is thought that a cast-leaden 
plate, containing the alphaljet in raised letters, 
was used for the instruction of the youth of 
England, as Sir George Musgrave of Eden-hall 
possesses two carved stones which aj)pear to have 
been moulds for such a production. 


On a bitter winter's night, when rain had 
softened the ground, and loosened such soil as 
was deficient in cohesiveness, a whole mass of 
Irish bog or peat-moss shifted from its place. It 
was on the 3d of January 1853; and the spot 
was in a wild region called Enagh Monmore. 
The mass w^as nearly a mile in circumference, 
and several feet deep. On it moved, urged 
apparently by the force of gravity, over sloping 
ground, and continuing its strange march for 
twenty-four hours, when a change in the contour 
of the ground brought it to rest. Its extent of 
movement averaged about a quarter of a mile. 

Such phenomena as these, although not fre- 
quent in occurrence, are sufficiently numerous 
to deserve notice. There are in many, if not 
most countries, patches of ground covered 
with soft boggy masses, too insecure to build 
upon, and not very useful in any other wa3^ 
Bogs, mosses, quagmires, marshes, fens — all have 
certain points of resemblance : they are all masses 
of vegetable matter, more or less mixed with 
earth, and moistened with streams running 
through them, springs rising beneath them, or 
rains falling upon them. Some are masses 
almost as solid as wood, fibrous, and nearly dry ; 
some are liquid black mud ; others are soft, green, 
vegetable, spongy accumulations ; while the rest 
present intermediate characters. Peat-bogs of 
the hardest kind are believed to be the result of 
decayed forests, acted upon by long-continued 
heat, moisture, and pressure ; mosses and marshes 
are probably of more recent formation, and are 
more thoroughly satiirated with Avater. In most 
cases' they fill hoUows in the ground ; and if tjie 
edges of those hollows are not well-defined and 
sufficiently elevated, we are very likely to hear 
of the occurrence o? quaking hogs and Jlow-mosscs. 

In the year 1697, at Charleville, near Limerick, 
a peat-bog burst its bounds. There was heard 
for some time rmdcrgrouud a noise like thiinder 
at a great distance or when nearly spent. Soon 
afterwards, the partially-dried crust of a large 
bog began to move ; the convexity of the upper 
surface began to sink ; and boggy matter flowed 





out at the eilgos. ]N'ol only iliJ Uio substance of 
the boji move, but it carriod Avilh it the adjacent 
pastuiv-grounds. tl>ou,<:;li separated by a large 
and deep iViteli. The motion eontiuued a con- 
siderable time, and the surface rose into undu- 
lations, but without bursting up or breaking-. 
Tlie ^>asturo-laud rose very high, and was urged 
on with tlie same motion, till it rested upon a 
neighbouring meadow, the whole surface of which 
it covered to a depth of sixteen feet. The site 
wliich the bog had occupied was left full of 
unsightly lioles, containing foul water giving 
forth slinking vapours. It was pretty well ascer- 
tained that this catastrophe was occasioned by 
long-continued rain — not by softening the bog ou 
which it fell, but by getting under it, and so 
causing it to slide away. 

England, though it has abundance of fenny or 
marshy land in tlie counties lying west and south 
of the "Wash, has very few such bogs as those 
which cover nearly three million acres of land 
in Ireland. There arc some spots, however, 
such as Chat Moss in Lancashire, which belong 
to this character. Leland, who wrote in the time 
of Ueury the Eighth, described, in his quaint 
way, an outflow of this moss : ' Chat Moss brast 
up within a mile of Mosley Haul, and destroied 
much grounde with mosse thereabout, and de- 
stroied much fresh-water fishche thereabout, 
first corrupting with stinkinge water Glasebrooke, 
and so Glasebrooke carried stinkinge water and 
mosse into Mersey water, and Mersey corrupted 
carried the roulliug mosse, part to the shores of 
AVales, part to the isle of Man, and some unto 
Ireland. And in the very top of Chateley More, 
where the mosse was hj-est and brake, is now a 
fair plainc valley as ever in tymes paste, and a 
rylle nmnith int, and peaces of small trees be 
found in the bottom.' Let it be remembered that 
this is the same Chat Moss over which the daring 
but yet calculating genius of George Stephenson 
carried a railway. It is amusing now to look back 
at the evidence given, thirty -five years ago, before 
the Parliamentary Committee on the Liverpool and 
Manchester Eailway. Engineers of some eminence 
vehemently denied the possibility of achieving the 
work. One of them said that no vehicle could 
stand on the Moss short of the bottom ; that the 
whole must be scooped out, to the depth of thirty 
or forty feet, and an equivalent of hard earth 
filled in ; and that even if a railway could bo 
formed on the Moss, it would cost £200,000. 
Nevertheless Stephenson did it, and expended 
only £30,000 ; and there is the railway, sound to 
the present hour. The moss, over an area of 
nearly twelve square miles, is so soft as to yield 
to the foot ; while some parts of it arc a pulpy 
mass. Stephenson threw down thousands of 
cubic yards of firm earth, which gradually sank, 
and solidified sufficiently to form his railway 
upon; hurdles of heath and brushwood were 
laid upon the surface, and on these the wooden 
sleepers. There is still a gentle kind of undula- 
tion, as if the railway rested on a semi-fluid mass; 
nevertheless it is quite secure. 

Scotland has many more bogs and peat-mosses 

than England. They are found chiefly in low 

districts, but sometimes even on the tops of 

the mountains. Mr Eobert Chambers gives an 

48 ^ 

account of an outburst which took place in 1629: 
' In the fertile district between Falkirk and Stir- 
ling, there was a large moss with a little lake in 
the middle of it, occupying a piece of gradually- 
rising ground. A highly-cultivated district of 
wheat-land lay below. There had been a series 
of heavy rains, and the moss became overcharged 
M-ith moisture. After some days, during which 
slight movements were visible on this quagmire, 
the whole nuiss began one night to leave its 
native situation, and slide gently down to the 
low grounds. The people who lived on these 
lands^ receiving sulUcient Avarning, fled and saved 
their lives ; but in the morning light they beheld 
their little farms, sixteen in number, covered six 
feet deep with liquid moss, and hopelessly lost.' 
— Domestic Annals of Scotland, ii. 35. 

Somewhat akin to this was the flowing moss 
described by Pennant. It was on the Scottish 
border, near the shore of the Solway. When 
he passed the spot during his First Journey to 
Scotland in 1768, he saw it a smiling valley ; on 
his Second Journey, four years afterwards, it was 
a dismal waste. The Solway Moss was an ex- 
panse of semi-liquid bog covering 1600 acres, 
and lying somewhat higher than a valley of fertile 
land near Netherby. So long as the moderately 
hard crust near the edge was preserved, the 
moss did not flow over : but on one occasion 
some peat-diggers imprudently tampered with 
this crust ; and the moss, moistened with very 
heavy rain, overcame further control. It was 
on the night of the I7th of November 1771, that 
a farmer who lived near the Moss was suddenly 
alarmed by an iiuusual noise. The crust had 
given way, and the black deluge was rolling 
towards his house while he was searching with a 
lantern for the cause of the noise. When he 
caught sight of a small dai'k stream, he thought 
it cam ; from his own farm-yard dung hill, which 
by some strange cause had been set in motion. 
The truth soon flashed upon him, however. He 
gave notice to his neighbours with all expedition. 
' Others,' said Pennant, ' received no other advice 
than what this Stygian tide gave them : some by 
its noise, many by its entrance into their houses ; 
and I have been assured that some were sur- 
prised with it even in their beds. These passed 
a horrible night, remaining totally ignorant of 
tlieir fate, and the cause of their calamity, till the 
morning, when their neighbours with difficulty 
got them out through the roof.' About 300 acres 
of bog flowed over 400 acres of land, utterly 
ruining and even burying the farms, overturning 
the buildings, filling some of the cottages up to 
the roof, and sufi'ocating many cattle. The stuff 
flowed along like thick black paint, studded with 
lumps of more solid peat ; and it filled every 
nook and crevice in its passage. ' The disaster of 
a cow was so singular as to deserve mention. 
She was the only one, out of eight in the same 
cow-house, that was saved, after having stood 
sixty hours up to the neck in mud and water. 
When she was relieved she did not refuse to eat, 
but would not touch water, nor would even look 
at it without manifest signs of horror.' 

The same things are going on around us at the 
present day. During the heavy rains of August 
1861, there was a displacement of Auchingray 




Moss between Slamannan and Airdrie. A farmer, 
looking out one morning from his farm-door near 
the first-named town, saw, to his dismay, about 
twenty acres of the moss separate from its clay 
bottom, and float a distance of three quarters of a 
mile. The sight Avas wonderful, but the conse- 
quences were grievous ; for a large surface of 
potato-ground and of arable land became covered 
with the ofieusivc visitant. 


Sf Titus, disciple of St Paul. St Gregory, bishop, 541. 
St lligobert, or Rjbert, about 750. St Rumon, bishop. 

Bom. — Archbishop Usher, 1580; Jacob Ludwig Carl 
Grimm, 1785. 

Died. — The Mareschal Due de Luxembourg, 1695; 
Charlotte Lennox, novelist, 1804; Kachel, tragedienne, 


Jacob Grimm and his younger brother Wilhelm, 
natives of Hanau in the electorate of Hesse 
Cassel, now (1861) occupying professorships at 
Berlin, are distinguished as investigators of the 
early history and literature of Germany. They 
have produced numerous works, and finally have 
engaged upon a large Dictionary of the German 
Language. ' All my labours,' says Jacob 
Grimm, ' have been either directly or indirectly 
devoted to researches into our ancient language, 
poetry, and laws. These studies may seem 
useless to many ; biit to me they have always 
appeared a serious and dignified task, firmly and 
distinctly connected with our common fatherland, 
and calculated to foster the love of it. I have 
esteemed nothing trifling in these incjuiries, but 
have used the small for the elucidation of the 
great, popular traditions for the elucidation of 
written documents. Several of my books have 
been published in common with my brother 
"VVilliam. We lived from our youth up in 
brotherly community of goods ; money, books, 
and coUectanea, belonged to us in common, and 
it was natural to combine onr labours.' The 
publications of Jacob extend over fully half a 
century, the first having appeared in 1811. 


Whatever glory or territory France gained by 
arms under Louis XIV. might be said to be owing 
to this singularly able general. It was remarked 
that each of his campaigns was marked by some 
brilliant victory, and as these were always bla- 
zoned on the Malls of the principal church of 
Paris, he came to be called, by one of those 
epigrammatic flatteries for which the French are 
distinguished, Le Tajyissier de Noire Dame. With 
his death the prosperities of Louis XIV. termi- 


Tlic modern tragedy queen of France died at 
thirty-eight — that age which appears so fatal to 
genius ; that is to say, the age at which an over- 
worked nervous system comes naturally to a 
close. An exhausting professional tour in 
America, entered upon for needless mouey- 

making, is believed to have had much to do in 
bringing the great tragedienne to a premature 
grave. Eachel was the child of poor Hebrew 
parents, and her talents were first exercised in 
singing to a guitar on the streets of Paris. When 
at an early age she broke upon theatrical audi- 
ences in the characters of Eoxane, CamUle, and 
others of that class, she created a furore almost 
unexampled. Yet her style of acting was more 
calctdated to excite terror than to melt with pity. 
She was in reality a woman without estimable 
equalities. The mean passion of avarice was her 
predominating one, and strange stories are told 
of the oblique courses she would resort to to 
gratify it. There was but one relieving considera- 
tion regarding it, that she employed its results 
liberally in behalf of the poor family from which 
she sprang. The feelings with which we heard 
in England in 1848 that Eachel had excited the 
greatest enthusiasm in the Theatre Frangais by 
singing the Marseillaise hymn, and soon after 
that her lover M. Ledru Eollin, of the provisional 
government, had paid her song with a grant of 
public money, will not soon be forgotten. 

It was on the 4th of January 536, that two 
monks came from the Indies to Constantinople, 
bringing with the:n the means of teaching the 
manufacture of silk. Workmen instructed in 
the art carried it thence to Italy and other parts 
of Europe. In England, the manufacture was 
practised as early as the reig-n of Henry VI., in 
the middle of the fifteenth century. 


The 4th of January 1641-2 is the date of one 
of the most memorable events in English history 
■ — the attempted arrest of the five members of 
the House of Commons — Pym, Hampden, Hollis, 
Haseh'ig, and Strode — by Charles I. The divi- 
sions between the unhappy king and his parlia- 
ment were lowering towards the actual war 
which broke oiit eight months later. Charles, 
stung by the Grand Eemonstrance, a paper in 
which ail the errors of his past government were 
exposed, thoughtby one decisive act tostrike terror 
into his outraged subjects, and restore his fidl 
authority. While London was on the borders 
of insurrection against his rule, there yet were not 
wanting considerable numbers of country gentle- 
men, soldiers of fortune, and others, who were eager 
to rally round him in any such attempt. His design 
of coming with an armed band to tJie House and 
arrestingthe five obnoxious members, was com- 
municated by a lady of his court; so that, just 
as he approached the door of the House with his 
cavalier bands, the gentlemen he wished to seize 
were retiring to a boat on the river, by which 
they made their escape. 

Mr John Forster has assembled, with great 
skill, aU the facts of the scene which ensued. 
' Within the House,' lie says,* ' but a few minutes 
had elapsed since the Five Members had de- 
parted, and Mr Speaker had received instruction 
to sit still with the mace lying before him, when 

* The Arrest of Five Members, by Charles L A Chapter 
of English History re-written. By John Forster. 1860. 



THE BOOK OF DAYS. life-boats and theiu boatmen. 

a loud knock tlu-e\v open the door, a rusli of 
armed men was heard, and above it (as vro learn 
from Sir Ealph Vcrney) the voice of the Kin^ 
commanding " upon their lives not to come in." 
The moment after, followed only by his nephew, 
Charles, the Prince Elector Palatine, Eupert's 
eldest brother, he entered ; but the door was not 
permitted to be closed behind him. Visible now 
at the threshold to all were the officers and des- 
peradoes, of whom. D'Ewes proceeds : " some had 
left their cloaks in the hall, and most of them 
were armed with pistols and swords, and they 
forcibly kept the door of the House of Commons 
open, one Captain Hide standing next the door 
holding his sword upright in the scabbard." A 
picture which Sir llalph Verney, also present 
that day, in his place, completes by adding that, 
" so the door was kept open, and the Earl of 
Eoxbiu'gh stood within the door, leaning upon 
it." ' 

The King walked uncovered along the hall, 
while the members stood uncovered and silent 
on each side. Taking a position on the step in 
front of the Speaker's chair, he looked round for 
the faces of Pym and his four associates, and not 
finding them, he thus spoke : ' Gentlemen, I am 
sorry for this occasion of coming among you. Yes- 
terday I sent a serjeant-at-arms upon a very impor- 
tant occasion to apprehend some that by my com- 
mand were accused of high treason ; whereunto 
I did expect obedience, and not a message. And 
I must declare unto you here, that albeit no king 
that ever was in England, shall be more cai'eful 
of yo'Ai' pi'ivileges, to maintain them to the utter- 
most of his power, than I shall be, yet you must 
know that in cases of treason no person hath a 
privilege. And therefore I am come to know if 
any of these persons that were accused ai'e here.' 

Still casting his eyes vainly around, he after a 
pause added, ' So long as those persons that I have 
accused (for no slight crime, but for treason) are 
here, I cannot expect that this House will be in 
the right way I do heartily wish it. Therefore I 
am come to tell you that I must have them, 
wherever I find them.' 

After another pause, he called out, ' Is Mr 
Pym here ? ' No answer being returned, he 
asked if Mr Hollis was here. There being still 
no answer, he turned to the Speaker, and put 
these questions to him. The scene became pain- 
fully embarrassing to all. and it grew more so 
when Lenthal, kneeling before the King, entreated 
him to tinderstand that he could neither see nor 
speak but at the pleasure of the House. ]\Ir 
Forster has been enabled by D'Ewes to describe 
the remainder of the scene in vivid terms. 
After another long pause — a ' dreadful silence ' — 
' Charles spoke again to the crowd of mute and 
sullen faces. The complete failure of his scheme 
was now accomplished, and all its possible con- 
sequences, all the suspicions and retaliations to 
which it had laid him open, appear to have rushed 
upon his mind. " Well, since I see all my birds 
are flown, I do expect from you that you will 
send them unto me as soon as they return hither. 
But, I assure you, on the word of a king, I never 
did intend any force, but shall proceed against 
Ihcm in a legal and fair way, for I never meant 
any other. And now, since I see that I cannot 

do what I came for, I think this no unfit occasion 
to repeat yshat I have said formerly, that what- 
soever I have done in favour, and to the good, of 
my subjects, I do mean to maintain it. I will 
trouble you no more, but tell you I do expect, as 
soon as they come to the House, you will send 
them to me ; otherwise I must take my own 
course to fincl them." To that closing sentence, 
the note left by Sir Ealph Verney makes a not 
unimportant addition, which, however, appears 
nowhere in Eushworth's Eeport. "For their 
treason was foid, and such an one as they woidd 
all thank hiin to discover." If uttered, it was an 
angry assertion from amid forced and laboured 
apologies, and so far, would agree with what 
D'Ewes observed of his change of manner at the 
time. " After he had ended his speech, he went 
out of the House in a more discontented and 
angry passion than he came in, going out again 
between myself and the south end of the clerk's 
table, and the Prince Elector after him." 

' But he did not leave as he had entered, in 
silence. Low mutterings of fierce discontent 
broke out as he passed along, and many members 
cried out aloud, so as he might hear them. Privi- 
lege ! Privilege ! With these words, ominous of 
ill, ringing in his ear, he repassed to his palace 
through the lane again formed of his armed adhe- 
rents, and amid audible shouts of an evil augury 
from desperadoes disappointed of their prey.' 

There was but an interval of six days between 
the King's entering the House of Commons, and 
his flight from Whitehall. Charles raised the 
issue, the Commons accepted it, and so began our 
Great Civil War. 


The northern coast of Wales, between the 
towns of Ehyl and Abergele, was thrown into 
excitement on the 4th of January 1847, by the 
loss of one gallant life-boat, and the success of 
another. A schooner, the Temperance of Belfast, 
got into distress in a raging sea. The Ehyl life- 
boat pushed ofi" in a wild surf to aid the sufferers ; 
whether the boat was injured or mismanaged, 
none survived to tell ; for all the crew, thirteen 
in number, were overwhelmed by the sea, and 
found a watery grave. The Temperance, however, 
was not neglected ; another life-boat set out from 
Point-of-Air, and braving all dangers, brought 
the crew of the schooner safe to land. 

This event is a type of two important things in 
relation to the shipping of England — the enor- 
mous amount of wreck on our coasts, and the heroic 
and unselfish exertions made to save human life 
imperilled by those catastrophes. The wreck is 
indeed terrible. There is a ' Wreck Chart ' of 
the British Islands now published annually, spot- 
ted with death all over ; little black marks are 
engraved for every wreck, opposite the part of 
the coast where they occurred. More than one of 
these charts has had a thousand such spots, each 
denoting either a total wreck or a serious disaster, 
and involving the loss of a still larger number 
of lives. The collier ships which bring coal 
from the north to London are sadly exposed to 
these calamities during their ten or twelve thou- 
sand annual voyages. The eastern coast from the 
Tyne to the Himiber, the coast opposite Yar- 




mouth, the shoals off the mouth of the Thames, 
the Scilly Isles, the west coast of Wales, and 
Barnstaple Bay, are all dismal places for wrecks. 
Little need is there to teU the story of ship- 
wreck : it is known full well. How the returning 
emigrant, with his belt full of gold, sinks to a 
briny grave when within sight of his native shore ; 
how the outgoing emigrant meets with a similar 
death before his voyage has well commenced ; 
how the soldier is overwhelmed when departing 
to fight on foreign shores ; how fi'iends are 
severed, valuable goods lost, merchants ruined — 
aU this is known to every one who takes up a 
newspaper. Some may say, looking at the pro- 
digious activity of our shipping, that wreck is an 
inevitable accompaniment of such a system. 
When we consider that seven hundred over-sea 
voyages fer day either begin or end at a port in 
the United Kingdom, we ought to expect disasters 
as one of the attendant consequences. True, 
some disasters : the question is, whether pruden- 
tial arrangements might not lessen the number. 

About seventy years ago, after a terrible 
storm on the Northumbrian coast, Mr Great- 
head, of South Shields, constructed what he 
called a safety-hoat or life-boat, containing much 
cork in its composition, as a means of producing 
buoyancy. Other inventors followed and tried 
to improve the construction by the use of 
air-tight cases, india-rubber linings, and other 
light but impervioiis substances. Sometimes 
these boats were instrumental in saving life ; 
sometimes a Grace Darling, daring aU perils, 
would push forth to a distressed ship in a 
common open boat ; but still the loss of life by 
shipwreck was every year distressingly great. 
It was under this state of things that the 'Insti- 
tution for the Preservation of Life from Ship- 
wreck ' was foimded in 1824, to establish life- 
boats and mortar-rockets at all the dangerous 
parts of our coasts ; to induce the formation of 
local committees at the chief ports for a similar 
purpose ; to maintain a correspondence with 
tliose committees ; and to encourage the inven- 
tion of new or improved boats, buoys, belts, 
rocket apparatus, and other appliances for saving 
life. Eight nobly has this work been done. 
Without fee or reward, without guarantee or 
'subsidy,' the Institution, now called the ' Life- 
Boat Institution,' has been emj)loyed for nearly 
forty years in saving human life. Many an excit- 
ing narrative may be picked out of the pages of 
the Life-Boat, a journal in which the Institution 
occasionally records the story of shipwreck and of 

The life-boat system is remarkable in all its 
points. In 1850 the Duke of Northumberland 
offered a prize for the best form of life-boat. 
The boat-builders set to work, and sent in nearly 
300 plans ; the winner was Mr Beeching, boat- 
builder at Yarmouth. Oddly enough, however, 
the examiners did not practically adopt any one 
of them, not even Mr Beeching's ; they got a 
member of their own body (Mr Peake, master 
sliipwright at Woolwich dockyard) to construct a 
life-boat that should comprise all the best points 
of all the best plans. This boat, slightly im- 
proved by later alterations, is the one now 
adopted by the Life-Boat Institution, and coming 

into use in other countries besides our own. It is 
about thirty feet long, seven wide, and four deep ; 
nearly alike at both ends, and ingeniously con- 
trived with air chambers, passages, and valves. 
It possesses in a high degree these qualities- 
great lateral stability ; speed against a heavy sea ; 
facility for landing and for taking the shore ; im- 
mediate self-discharge of sea-water; facility of self- 
righting if upset ; great strength of construction ; 
and stowage room for a number of passengers. 
Gallantly the boatmen manage these life-boats. 
The Institution maintains life-boat stations all 
round the coast, each of which is a little iwyje- 
rium in itself— a life-boat, generally a boat-house 
to keep it in, a carriage on which to drag it out 
to the sea, and a comx^lete service of all the 
articles necessary for the use of the men. There 
is a captain or coxswain to each boat, and he can 
command the services of a hardy crew, obtained 
partly by salaries and partly by reward when 
actually engaged in saving life. The Institution 
can point to nearly 12,000 lives saved between 
1824 and 1861, either directly by the boats and 
boatmen, or by exertions encouraged and rewarded 
by the Institution. 

Nor should the gallant life-boatmen be grudged 
their bit of honest pride at what they have done. 
They can teU of the affair of October 7th, 1854, 
when, in an easterly gale at Holm Sand on the 
Suffolk coast, the life-boat boldly struck out, 
and finding a Norwegian brig in distress, was 
baffled by the drunken state of the eight sea- 
men on board, but succeeded, on a second at- 
tempt next morning, in bringing all safely off, 
the men being by that time sobered and manage- 
able. They can tell of the affair of the 2nd of May, 
1855, when the Eamsgate beachmen saw signal 
rockets at the light-vessels moored off the Good- 
win Sands, denoting that a ship was in danger. 
The life-boat gallantly started on her mission 
of mercy. Then was there seen a hapless ship, 
the Queen of the Teign, high and dry on the 
Goodwins, with a foaming sea on the edge of the 
sand. How to get near it ? The boatmen 
waited till the morning tide supplied a sulllciency 
of water ; they went in, ran on the sand among 
the breakers, and aided the poor exhausted crew 
of the ship to clamber on board the life-boat. 
All were saved ; and by dexterous management 
the ship was saved also. There was the AVhitby 
case of January the 4th, 1857, when one of the 
boatmen was clearly washed out of the life- 
boat, over the heads of all his companions, by a 
raging sea ; and yet all were saved, ship's crew 
and boatmen alike. But most of aU do the life- 
boatmen pleasurably reflect on the story of the 
Northern Belle, and what they achieved for the 
crew of that ship. It was a fine vessel, an 
American trader of 1100 tons. On the 5th of 
January 1857, she was off the North Foreland, 
struck by a terrible sea, and placed in imminent 
peril. The Broadstairs boatmen harnessed them- 
selves to their life-boat carriage, and dragged it 
with the l^oat a distance of no less than two 
miles, from Broadstairs to Kingsgate, over a 
heavy and hiUy country. In the dead, of a winter's 
night, amid had, sleet, and rain, the men could 
not sec where to launch their boat. They 
waited through the darkness. At day-break on 




the next moraine:, a distressinjx sii^Iit presented 
itself: twenty-three poor fellows were elingin^ 
to the riijijini^" of the only remainini^ mast of the 
Korf/icrii lH'/h\ to whieh they hail hehl on dur- 
inix this appallini; night. Oil'went the life-boat, the 
Man/ White, niannoil by seven daring boatmen, 
■who' braved the raging sea Avhich washed over 
then\ repeatedly. ' They went to the Avreck, 
brought ofl" seven men, and were obliged to leave 
the rest for fear of involving all in destruction. 
Meanwhile another life-boat, the Ciilmcr White, 
was wheeled overland irom Broadstairs, then 
hiunehed. and succeeded in bringing away four- 
teen of the suiYerers. There renuiined only two 
others, the captain and the pilot, who refused to 
leave the wreck so long as a spar was standing. 
The Culmcr White dashed out a second time, 
rescued these two mariners, and left the hapless 
ship to its watery grave. How the poor American 
sailors were warmed and cared for at the little 
hostelry, the ' Captain Digby,' at Kiugsgate ; 
how the life-boats returned in triumphant pro- 
cession to Broadstairs; and how the quiet heroism 
of the life-boatmen was the admiration of all — 
the newspapers of the period fully told. 


A claim having been made this day (1826), at 
the Marlborougli-street Police Oifiee, for a reward 
on account of the detection of a brewery chimney 
on fire, it Avas resisted on the ground that the 
flue, which was above eighty feet high, was so 
constructed and managed that it could not take 
fire. A witness on this side. Avho gave the (un- 
necessarj') information that he was a chimney- 
sweep, set forth his evidence in the following 
terms : ' This here man (pointing to the patrol) 
has told a false aflidavit, your wortship. I knows 
that ere chimlej'' from a hiufant, and she knows my 
foot as well as my own mother. The ways I goes 
up her is this — I goes in all round the boiler, then 
I twists in the chimley like the smoke, and then 
up I goes with the wind, for, your wortship, there's 
a wind in her that would blow you out like a 
feather, if you didn't know her as well as I do, 
and that makes me always go to the top myself, be- 
cause there isn't a brick in her that doesn't know 
my foot. So that you see, your wortship, no soot 
or blacks is ever in her; the wind won't let 'em 
stop : and besides they knows that I go up her 
regular. So that she always keeps herself as 
clean as a new pin. I'll be bound the sides of her 
is as clean this minute as I am (not saying much 
for the chimney) ; therefore, your wortship, that 
ere man as saw two yards of fire coming out of 
her, did not see no such thing, I say ; and he has 
told your wortship, and these here gentlemen 
present, a false atfidavit, I say. I was brought up 
in that chimley, your wortship, and I can't abear 
to hear such things said — lies of her ; and that's 
all as I knows at present, please your wortship.' 

The first Monday of the year* is a great holi- 
day among the peasantry of Scotland, and 

* The year 1864 being assumed as the basis of the 
Book of Days, the popular Scotch festival of Handsel- 
Monday comes to be treated under the 4th of January. 

children generally, as being the day peculiarly 
devoted in that country to the giving and receiv- 
ing of ])rosents. It is on this account called 
Handsel 3Ionda>/, handsel being in Scotland the 
equivalent of a Christmas box, but more speci- 
ally inferring a gift at the commencement of a 
season or the induing of some new garment. The 
young people visit their seniors in expectation of 
tips (the voi'd, but not the action, unknown in the 
north). Postmen, scavengei's, and deliverers of 
newspapers look for their little annual guerdons. 
Among the vuvBlr)OY)\ila,t\on,AuldIIansel]\fonda)/, 
i. e. Handsel Monday old style, or the first 
Monday after the 12th of the month, is the day 
usually held. The farmers used to treat the 
Avhole of their servants on that morning to a 
liberal breakfast of roast and boiled, with ale, 
whiskey, and cake, to their utmost contentment ; 
after which the guests went about seeing their 
friends for the remainder of the day. It was also 
the day on which any disposed for change gave 
up their places, and when new servants were en- 
gaged. Even now, when most old fashions are 
much decayed, Auld Handsel Ifondai/ continues 
to be the holiday of the year to the class of farm- 
labourers in Scotland. 

' It is worth mentioning that one "William 
Hunter, a collier (residing in the parish of Tilli- 
coultry, in Clackmannanshire), was cured in the 
year 1738 of an inveterate rheumatism or gout, 
oy drinking freely of new ale, full of barm or 
yeast. The poor man had been confined to his 
bed for a year and a half, having almost entirely 
lost the use of his limbs. On the evening of 
Handsel Monday, as it is called, some of his 
neighbours came to make merry with him. 
Though he could not rise, yet he always took 
his share of the ale, as it passed round the com- 
pany, and in the end he became much intoxicated. 
The consequence was that he had the use of his 
limbs next morning, and was able to walk about. 
He lived more than twenty years after this, and 
never had the smallest return of his old com- 
jilaint.' — (Sinclair's) Statistical Account of Scot- 
land, XV. 201, note. 

6il]c P^an iit ilje '^omx. 

This is a familiar expression, to which few 
persons attach any definite idea. Many would 
be found under a belief that it refers merely to 
that faint appearance of a face which the moon 
presents when full. Those who are better 
acquainted with natural objects, and with folk- 
lore, are aware that the Man in the Moon — the 
object referred to under that name — is a dusky 
resemblance to a human figure which appears en 
the western side of the luminary when eight days 
old, being somewhat like a man carrying a thorn- 
bush on his back, and at the same time engaged in 
climbing, while a detached object in front looks 
like his dog going on before him. It is a very old 
popular notion amongst various nations, that this 
figure is the man referred to in the book of 
Nvimbers (chap. xv. v. 32 et seq.), as having been 
detected by the children of Israel in the wilder- 
ness, in the act of gathering sticks on the 
Sabbath-day, and whom the Lord directed (in 
absence of a law on the subject) to be stoned 




to death -nitliout tlie camp. One would liave 
tliougbfc this poor stick-gatherer sufBciently pun- 
ished in the actual history : nevertheless, the 
]3opular mind has assigned him the additional 
pain of a perpetual pillorying in the moon. There 
he is with his burden of sticks upon his back, 
continually climbing up that shining height with 
his little dog before him, but never getting a step 
higher ! And so it ever must be while the world 
endures ! 

Our poets make clear to iia how old is this 
notion. "When 3Ioonshine is to be represented 
in the famous play of Pyramus and Thisbe 
(Shakspeare's Midsummer Night's Dream), Mr 
Quince, the carpenter, gives due directions, as 
follows : ' One must come in with a bush of 
thorns and a lantern, and say he comes in to 
disfigure, or to present, the person of moonshine.' 
And this order is realised. ' All I have to say,' 
concludes the performer of this strange part, * is, 
to tell you, that the lantern is the moon ; I the 
man in the moon ; this thorn-bush my thorn- 
bush ; and this dog my dog.' Chaucer adverts 
to the Man in the Moon, with a needless aggra- 
vation of his criminality : 

' On her hrest a chorle painted fiil even, 
Bearing a bush of thorns on his liacke, 
Which for his theft might chme so ne'r the heaven.' 

Dante, too, the contemporary of Chaucer, 
makes reference, in his Inferno, to the Man in 
the Moon, but with a variation upon the poj)ular 
English idea, in as far as he calls him Cain. 

In Eitson's Ancient Songs, there is one 
extracted from a manuscript of the time of 
Edward II., on the Man in the Moon, but in 
language which can scarcely now be understood. 
The first verse, in modern orthography, will 
probably satisfy the reader: 

' Man in the Moon stand and stit (?) 

On his hot fork his bm-den lie beareth. 
It is much wonder that he ua down sht. 
For doubt lest he fall he shudd'reth 
and shi'ereth. 
WTien the frost freezes must chill lie byde, 
The thorns be keen his hattren * so 
Nis no wight in the world there wot when 
he syt (?) 
Xe bote it by the hedge what weeds he 


St Simeon Stj-lites, 4.59; St Telesphorus, seventh bishop 
of Rome, 128; St Sjncletica (4th century ?), virgin. 


so named from the Greek word stylos, a pillar, 
was the founder of an order of monks, or rather 
solitary devotees, called pillar-saints. Of all the 
forms of voluntary self-torture practised by the 
early Christians this was one of the most extra- 
ordinary. Originally a shepherd in Cilicia about 
the year 408, when only thirteen years of age, 
* Attire. 

Simeon left his flocks, and obtained admission into 
a monastery in Syria, but afterwards withdrew to 
a mountain about thirty or forty miles east from 
Antioch, where he at first confined himself within 
a circle of stones. Deeming this mode of penance 
not sufficiently severe, in the year 423 he fixed 
his residence on the top of a pillar, which was at 
first nine feet high, but was successively raised 
to the somewhat incredible height of sixty feet 
(forty cubits). The diameter of the top of the 
pillar was only three feet, but it was surrounded 
by a railing which secured him from falling off", 
and afforded him some relief by leaning against 
it. His clothing consisted of the skins of beasts, 
and he wore an iron collar round his neck. He 
exhorted the assembled people twice a day, and 
spent the rest of his time in assuming various 
postures of devotion. Sometimes he prayed 
kneeling, sometimes in an erect attitude with 
his arms stretched out in the form of a cross, but 
his most frequent exercise was that of bending 
his meagre body so as to make his head nearly 
touch his feet. A spectator once observed him 
make more than 1240 such reverential bendings 
without resting. In this manner he lived on his 
pillar more than thirty years, and there he died 
in the year 459. His remains were removed to 
Antioch with great solemnity. His predictions 
and the miracles ascribed to him are mentioned 
at large in Theodoretus, who gives an account of 
the lives of thirty celebrated hermits, ten of whom 
were his contemporaries, including St Simeon 
Stylites. The pillar-saints were never numerous, 
and the propagation of the order was almost 
exclusively in the warm climates of the East. 
Among the names recorded is that of another 
Simeon, styled the younger, who is said to have 
dwelt sixty years on his pillar. 

Born. — Dr. Benjamin Rush, 11 A5,PMladelpMa ; Thomas 
Pringle, traveller and poet, 1789. 

Died. — Edward the Confessor, 1066, Westminster; 
Catherine de Medicis, Queen of France, 1589 ; James 
Merrick, 1769, Reading ; Jolin Howie, author of The Scots 
WortJiies, 1793 ; Isaac Heed, commentator on Shakspeare 
1807 ; Marshal Radetsky, 1858. 


Towards the close of 1065, this pious monarch 
completed the rebuilding of the Abbey at West- 
minster, and at Christmas he caused the newly- 
built church to be hallowed in the presence of the 
nobles assembled during that solemn festival. 

The king's health continued to decline ; and 
early in the new year, on the 5th of January, 
he felt that the hand of death was upon him. 
As he lay, tradition says, in the painted chamber 
of the palace at Westminster, a little while 
before he expired, Harold and his kinsman 
forced their way into the apartment, and ex- 
horted the monarch to name a successor, by 
whom the realm might be ruled in peace and 
security. ' Ye know full Avell, my lords,' said 
Edward, ' that I have bequeathed my kingdom 
to the Duke of Normandy, and arc there not 
those here whose oaths have been given to secure 
his succession ? ' Harold stepped nearer, and 
interrupting the king, he asked of Edward upon 





whom the crown should be bestowed. ' Harold ! 
take it, if such be thy wish ; but the gift will be thy 
ruin. Against the Puke and his baronage no power 
of thine can avail thee ! ' Harold replied that 
he did not fear the IN^orman or any other enemy. 
The dying king. Mearied with importunity, 
turned himself upon his couch, and faintly inti- 
mated that the English nation might name a 
king, Harold, or whom they liked ; and shortly 
afterwards he expired. In the picturesque 
language of Sir Francis Palgravc, ' On the fes- 
tival of the Epiphany, the day after the king's 
decease, his obsequies were solemnised in the 
adjoining abbey, then connected with the royal 

abode by walls and towers, the foundations 
whereof are still existing. Beneath the lofty 
windows of the southern transept of the Abbey, 
you may see the deep and blackened arches, 
fragments of the edifice raised by Edward, sup- 
porting the chaste and florid tracery of a more 
recent age. Westward stands the shrine, once 
rich in gems and gold, raised to the memory of 
the Confessor by the devotion of his successors, 
despoiled, indeed, of all its ornaments, neglected, 
and crumbling to ruin, but still surmounted by 
the massy iron-bound oaken coffin which con- 
tains the ashes of the last legitimate Anglo-Saxon 
king.' — Historii ofEncjland: Anglo-Saxon Period. 


We long possessed many interesting memorials 
of the Confessor in the coronation insignia which he 
gave to the Abbey Treasury — including the rich 
vestments, golden crown and sceptres, dalmatic, 
embroidered pall, and spurs — used at the coro- 
nations of our sovereigns, until the reign of 
Charles II. The death and funeral of the Con- 
fessor are worked in a compartment of the 
Bayeux Tapestry, believed to be of the age of the 
Conquest. The crucifix and gold chain and ring 
were seen in the reign of James II. The sculp- 
tures upon the frieze of the present shrine rej^re- 
seut-fourteen scenes in the life of the Confessor. 
He was the first of our sovereigns who touched 
for the king's-evii; he was canonized by Pope 
Alexander aljout a century after his death. The 
use of the Great Seal was first introduced in his 
reign: the original is in the British Museum. 
Hewas esteemed the patron-saint of England 
xmtil superseded in the 13thcenturyby St George; 
the translation of his relics from the old to his 
new shrine at "Westminster, in 1263, still finds a 

place, on the 13th of October, in the English 
Calendar : and more than twenty churches exist, 
dedicated either to him or to Fdward the king 
and martyr. 


was author of a book of great popularity in Scot- 
land, entitled the Scots IVorthies, being a homely 
but perspicuous and pathetic account of a select 
number of persons who sufiered for ' the cove- 
nanted work of Reformation' during the reigns 
of the last Stuarts. Howie was a simple-minded 
Ayrshire moorland farmer, dwelling in a lonely 
cot amongst bogs, in the parish of Fenwick, a 
place which his ancestors had possessed ever 
since the persecuting time, and which continued 
at a recent period to be occupied by his descend- 
ants. His great-grandfather was one of the per- 
secuted people, and many of the unfortunate 
brethren had received shelter in the house when 
they did not know where else to lay their head. 
One friend, Captain Paton, in Meadowhead, when 



executed at EdinburgL. in 1681, handed down his 
bible from the scaffold to his wife, and it soon 
after came into the hands of the Howies, who 
still preserve it. The captain's sword, a flag for 
the parish of Fenwick, carried atBothwell Bridge, 
a drum believed to have been used there, and a 
variety of manuscripts left by covenanting 
divines, were all preserved along with the cap- 
tain's bible, and rendered the house a museum of 
Presbyterian antiquities. People of great emi- 
nence have pilgrimised to Lochgoin to see the 
home of John Howie and his collection of 
curiosities, and generally have come away ac- 
knowledging the singular interest attaching to 
both. The simple worth, primitive manners, and 
strenuous faith of the elderly sons and daughters 
of John Howie, by whom the little farm was 
managed, formed a curious study in themselves. 
Visitors also fondly lingered in the little room, 
constituting the only one besides the kitchen, 
which formed at once the parlour and study 
of the author of the Worthies ; also over a 
bower in the little cabbage-garden, where John 
used to spend hours — nay, days — in religious 
exercises, and where, he tells us, he formally 
subscribed a covenant with God on the 10th of 
June 1785. A stone in the parish churchyard 
records the death of the great-grandfather in 
1691, and of the grandfather in 1755, the latter 
being ninety years old, and among the last sur- 
vivors of those who had gone through the fire of 
Eersecution. John Howie -wrote a memoir of 
imself, which no doubt contains something 
one cannot but smile at, as does his other Avork 
also. Yet there is so much pure-hearted earnest- 
ness in the man's writings, that they cannot be 
read without a certain respect. The Howies of 
Lochgoin may be said to have formed a monu- 
ment of the religious feelings and ways of a long 
by-past age, protracted into modern times. We 
see in them and their cot a specimen of the world 
of the century before the last. It is to be feared 
that in a few more years both the physical and 
the moral features of the place will be entirely 


On the 5th of January 1757, an attempt was 
made upon the life of the worthless French 
king, Louis XV., by Eobert Francis Damiens. 
' Between five and six in the evening, the king 
was getting into his coach at Versailles to go to 
the Trianon. A man, who had lurked about the 
colonnades for two days, pushed up to the coach, 
jostled the dauphin, and stabbed the king under 
the right arm with a long knife ; but, the king 
having two thick coats, the blade did not penetrate 
deep. Louis was surprised, but thinking the man 
had only pushed against him, said, 'Le coquin 
m'a donne un furieux coup de poing,' but glutting 
his hand to his side, and feeling blood, he said, 
' II m'a blesse ; qu'on le saisisse, et qu'on ne lui 
fasse point de mal.' The king being carried to 
bed, it was quickly ascertained that the wound 
was slight and not dangerous. 

' Damiens, the criminal, appeared clearly to be 
mad. He had been footman to several persons, 
had fled for a robbery, had returned to Paris in 

a dark and restless state of mind ; and by 
one of those wonderful contradictions of the 
human mind, a man aspired to renown that 
had descended to theft. Yet in this dread- 
ful complication of guilt and frenzy, there 
was room for compassion. The unfortunate 
wretch was sensible of the predominance of his 
black temperament ; and the very morning of 
the assassination, asked for a surgeon to let him 
blood ; and to the last gasp of being, he persisted 
that he should not have committed this crime, if 
he had been blooded. What the miserable man 
suffered is not to be described. "S^Tien first raised 
and carried into the guard-chamber, the Garde-de- 
sceaux and the Due d'Ayen ordered the tongs to 
be heated, and pieces torn from his legs, to make 
him declare his accomplices. The industrious art 
used topreserve his life was not less than the refine- 
ment of torture by which they meant to take it 
away. The inventions to form the bed on which 
he lay (as the wounds on his leg prevented his 
standing), that his health might in no shape be 
affected, equalled what a reproving tyrant would 
have sought to indulge his own luxury. 

' When carried to the dungeon, Damiens was 
wrapped up in mattresses, lest despair might 
tempt him to dash liis brains out, but his madness 
was no longer precipitate. He even amused him- 
self by indicating a variety of innocent persons as 
his accomplices ; and sometimes, more harmlessly, 
by playing the fool with his judges. In no 
instance he sank either under terror or anguish. 
The very morning on which he was to endure the 
question, when told of it, he said with the coolest 
intrepidity, " La journee sera rude " — after it, in- 
sisted on some wine with his water, saying, " II 
faut ici de la force." And at the accomplishment 
of his tragedy, studied and prolonged on tiie 
precedent of Havadlac's, he supported all with 
unrelaxed firmness ; and even unremitted tor- 
ture of four hours, which succeeded to his 
being two hours and a-half under the question, 
forced from him but some momentary yells.' 
— Memoirs of the JReign of King George the 
Second, ii., 281. 

That, in France, so lately as 1757, such a 
criminal shoidd have been publicly torn to pieces 
by horses, that many persons of rank should have 
been present on the occasion, and that the sufferer 
aUowed ' quelques plaisanteries ' to escape him 
during the process, altogether leave us in a 
strange state of feeling regarding the affair of 

Twelfth-day Eve is a rustic festival in England. 
Persons engaged in rural employments are, or 
have heretofore been accustomed to celebrate it ; 
and the purpose appears to be to secure a bless- 
ing for the fruits of the earth. 

' In Herefordshire, at the approach of the even- 
ing, the farmers with their friends and servants 
meet together, and about six o'clock walk out to 
a field where wheat is growing. In the highest 
part of the ground, twelve smaU fires, and one 
large one, are lighted up. The attendants, headed 
by the master of the family, pledge the company 





in old cider, -wlurli circulates freely on these 
occasions. A circle is formed round the large fire, 
when a general shout and hallooing takes place, 
which YOU hear answered from all the adjacent 
villages and fields. Sometimes fifty or sixty of 
tlu^so fires may he all seen at once. This heing 
fiuished, the comiiany return home, where tlie 
good housewife and her maids are preparing a 
good sun}>er. A large cake is alwaj-s provided,' 
with a nolo in the middle. After supper, the 
compaTiy all attend the hailifF (or head of the 
oxen) to the wain-house, where the following par- 
ticulars are ohscrved : The master, at the head of 
his friends, fills the cup (generally of strong ale), 
and stands opposite the first or finest of the oxen. 
He then pleilgcs him in a curious toast : the 
companj' follow his example, witli all the otlier 
oxen, and addressing each by his name. This 
being finished, the large cake is produced, and, 
with much ceremony, put on the horn of the first 
ox. through the hole above mentioned. The ox 
is then tickled, to make him toss his head : if he 
throw the cake behind, then it is the mistress's 
perquisite: if before (in what is termed the boosy), 
the bailift' himself claims the prize. The company 
then retui-n to the house, the doors of which tliey 
find locked, nor will they be opened till some 
joyous songs are sung. On tlieir gaining admit- 
tance, a scene of mirth and jollity ensues, which 
lasts the greatest part of the wight.'— Gentleman s 
JIapazine, Fehniari/, 1791. The custom is called 
in Herefordshire iVassaiUng. The fires are de- 
signed to represent the Saviour and his apostles, 
and it was customary as to one of them, held as 
representing Judas Iseariot, to allow it to burn a 
while, and then put it out and kick about the 

At Pauntley, in Gloucestershire, the custom 
has in view the prevention of the smut in wheat. 
' All the servants of every farmer assemble 
in one of the fields that has been sown with 
wheat. At the end of twelve lauds, they make 
twelve fires in a row with straw ; around one of 
which, made larger than the rest, they drink a 
cheerful glass of cider to their master's health, 
and success to the future harvest ; then returning 
home, they feast on cakes made with carraways, 
soaked in cider, which they claim as a reward 
for their past labour in sowing the grain.'* 

'In the south hams [villages] of Devonshire, 
on the eve of the Epiphanj^ the farmer, attended. 
by his workmen, with a large pitcher of cider, 
goes to the orchard, and there encircling one of 
the best bearing trees, they drink the following 
toast three several times : — 

' Here's to thee, old apple-tree, 
Whence thou mayst bud, and whence thou mayst 

blow ! 
And whence thou mayst bear apples enow ! 
Hats full! caps full! 
Bushel — bushel — sacks full, 
And my pockets fidl too ! Huzza ! 

This done, they return to the house, the doors of 
which they are sure to find bolted by the females, 
who, be the weather what it may, are inexorable 
to all entreaties to open them till some one has 


Radge's Gloucester, 

guessed at what is on the spit, which is generally 
some nice little thing, diihcult to be hit on, and 
is the reward of him who fii'st names it. The 
doors are then thrown open, and the lucky clod- 
])ole receives the tit-bit as his recompense. Some 
are so superstitious as to believe, that if they 
neglect this custom, the trees will bear no apples 
that year.' — Gentleman s Mac/azine, 1791, p. 403. 


The history of the pronunciation of the English 
language has been little traced. It fully appears 
that many words have sustained a considerable 
change of pronunciation during the last four 
hundred years : it is more particidarly marked 
in the vowel sounds. In the days of Elizabeth, 
high personages pronounced certain words in the 
same way as the common people now do in Scot- 
land. Eor example, the wise Lord Treasurer 
Burleigh said ^DJlan instead of when, and war 
instead of were ; witness a sentence of his own : 
' At Enfield, fyndying a dozen in a plump, whan 
there was no rayne, I bethought myself that they 
war appointed as watchmen, for the apprehend- 
yug of such as are missyng,' &c. — Letter to Sir 
Erancis Walsingham, 1586. (Collier's Papers to 
ShaJcspeare Society.) Sir Thomas Gresham, writing 
to his patron in behalf of his Avife, says : ' I 
humbly beseech your honour to be a s'te^ and 
some comfort to her in this my absence.' Elud- 
ing these men using such forms, we may allowalily 
suppose that much also of their colloquial dis- 
course was of the same homely character. 

Lady More, widow of the Lord Chancellor Sir 
Thomas More, writing to the Secretary Cromwell 
in 1535, beseeched his ' especial c/ude maistership,' 
out of his ' abundant gudeness ' to consider her 
case. ' So, bretherne, here is my maister,' occurs 
in Bishop Lacy's Exeter Pontifical about 1450. 
These pronunciations are the broad Scotch of the 
j)resent day. 

Tway for two, is another old English pronun- 
ciation. ' By whom came the inheritance of the 
lordship of Burleigh, and other lands, to the 
value of twai hundred pounds yearly,' says a 
contemporary life of the illustrious Lord Trea- 
surer. Tway also occurs in Piers Ploughman's 
Creed in the latter part of the fourteenth cen- 
tury : 

' Thereon lay a litel chylde lapped in cloutes, 

And tweyne of tweie yeres olde,' &c. 

So also an old manuscript poem preserved at 
Cambridge : 

' Dame, he seyde, how schalle we doo, 
He fayleth twaye tethe also.' 

This is the pronunciation of Tweeddale at the 
present day ; w^hile in most parts of Scotland 
they say tioa. Tway is nearer to the German 

A Scotsman, or a North of England man, 
speaking in his vernacular, never says ' all : ' he 
says ' a'.' In the old English poem of Savelok, 
the same form is used : 

' He shall haven in his hand 
A Denemark and Encreland.' 




The Scotsman uses ony for any : 

' Aye keep something to yoursel' 
Ye scarcely tell to ony. ' 


This is old English, as witness Caxton the printer 
in one of his publishing advertisements issued 
about 1490 : ' If it pies ony man, spirituel or 
temporel,' &c. An Englishman in those days 
would say ane for one, even in a prayer : 

' Thus was Thou aye, and evere salle be, 
Tlu-e yn ane, and ane yn thre.' 

A couplet, by the way, which gives another Scotch 
form in sal for shall. He also used amavcj for 
among, sang for song, faught for fought, 

(' They faught with Heraud everilk ane.' 

Guy of Warwick.) 

tald for told, fa)id for found, gane for gone, 
and aian for own. The last four occur in the 
curious verse inscriptions on the frescoes repre- 
senting scenes in St Augustine's life in Carlisle 
Cathedral, and in many other places, as a refer- 
ence to Halliwell's Dictionary of Archaisms will 

In a manuscript form of the making of an 
abbess, of probably the fifteenth century, main- 
teyne for maintain, sete for seat, and quere for 
quire, shew the prevalence at that time in Eng- 
land of pronunciations still retained in Scotland. 
{Bugdales Monasiicon, i. 437.) Ahstein for ab- 
stain, persevered down to the time of Elizabeth : 
' He that will doo this worke shall ahsteine from 
lecherousness and dronkennesse, ' &c. Scot's 
Discoverie of Witchcraft, 1581, where contein 
also occurs. The form sooh for suck, which still 
prevails in Scotland, occurs in Capgrave's 
metrical Life of St Katherine, about 1450. 

' Ah ! Jesu Christ, crown of maidens all, 
A maid bare thee, a maid gave thee sooh.'' 

Slree for straw — being very nearly the Scottish 
]:)rouunciation — occurs in Sir John Mandeville's 
Travels, of the fourteenth century. Even that 
peculiarly vicious northern form of shooter for 
suitor would appear, from a punning passage in 
Shakspeare, to have formerly prevailed in the 
south also : 

Boyet. — Who is the suitor? 

Rosaline. — Well, then, I am the shooter. 

Lovers Labour Lost. 

It is to be observed of Shakspeare that he uses 
fewer old or northern words than some of his 
contemporaries ; yet the remark is often made by 
Scotsmen, that much of his language, which the 
commentators explain for English readers, is to 
them intelligible as their vernacular, so that they 
are in a condition more readily to appreciate the 
works of the bard of Avon than even his own 

The same remark may be made regarding 
Spenser, and especially witli respect to his curi- 
ous poem of the Shepherd' s Calendar. When 
he there tells of a ewe, that ' She mought no 
gang on the greene,' he uses almost exactly the 
language that would be employed by a Sel- 
kirkshire shepherd, on a like occasion, at the 

present day. So also when Thenot says : ' Tell 
me, good Hobbinol, what gars thee greete ? ' he 
speaks pure Scotch. In this poem, Spenser also 
uses tway for two, gait for goat, mickle for much, 
wark for work, wae for woe, ken for know, craig 
for the neck, warr for worse, hame for home, and 
teen for sorrow, all of these being Scottish terms. 

Erom that rich well of old English, Wycliffe's 
translation of the Bible, we learn that in the 
fourteenth century ahoon stood for above (' Gird 
ahowen with knychtis gyrdill,' 2 Kings iii. 21), 
nowther was neither, and hreed was bread (' Give 
to lis this day oure breed,' &c.), all of these being 
Scottish pronunciations of the present day. 

Wycliffe also uses many words, now obsolete 
in England, but still iised in Scotland, as oker 
for interest, orison for oration, almery, a press or 
cupboard, sad for firm or solid, tolhooth, a place 
to receive taxes (' He seith a man syttynge in a 
tolbothe, Matheu by name,' Matt. ix. 9) ; toun 
for a farm (' The first saide, Y have boucht a 
tovin, and Y have nede to go out and se it,' 
Luke xiv. 19), scarry for precipitous, repe for a 
handful of corn-straw (' Here's a rip to thy auld 
'baggie.'— -Burns. ' Whanne thou repest corn in 
the feeld, and forgetist and leeuest a repe, thou 
schalt not turn agen to take it,' Deut. xxiv. 19), 
forleit for left altogether. The last, a term which 
every boy in Scotland applies to the forsaking of 
a nest by the bird, was used on a remarkable 
public occasion to describe the act of James II. 
in leaving his country. ' Others,' says Sir George 
Mackenzie, ' were for declaring that the king 
had forleited the kingdom.' 

The diflerences of pronunciation which now 
exist between the current English and cognate 
languages chiefly lie in the vowel sounds. The 
English have flattened down the broad A in a vast 
number of cases, and played a curious legerde- 
main with E and I, while other nations have in 
these particulars made no change. It seems to 
have been a pi-ocess of refinement, or what was 
thought to be such, in accordance with the advanc- 
ing conditions of domestic life in a counti-y on 
the whole singularly fortunate in all the circum- 
stances that favour civilization. Whether there 
is a real improvement in the case may be dovibted ; 
that it is a deterioration would scarcely be asserted 
in any quarter. Even those, however, who take 
the most favourable view of it, must regret that 
the change should have extended to the pronun- 
ciation of Greek and Latin. To introduce the 
flat A for the broad one, and interchange the 
sounds of E and I, in these ancient languages, 
must be pronounced as an utterly unwarrantable 
interference with something not our own to deal 
with — it is like one author making alterations in 
the writings of another, an act which justice and 
good taste alike condemn. 

CArt^/L-.— Mrs Delany says : ' I have found remark- 
able benefit from having chalk in everything I drink ; 
a lump put into the jug of water, and the tea- water 
managed in the same way. It is a great sweetener of 
the blood.' 

Price of Tea in 1728. — ' The man at the Poultry has 
tea of all prices — Bohea from thirteen to twenty shil- 
lings, and green from twelve to thirty.' — Mrs. Delamfs 






(L-pipbuun, 01- STfocIftlj-llHg. 
{Old Christmas Day.) 

St Molanius. bishop, 490. St Nilammon, hermit. St 
Peter, abbot of St Austin's, Canterbury, 608. 

JBorn.— Richard II., King of England, 1366; Joan 
d'Arc, 1402; Peter Metastasio, poet, 1698; Benjamin 
Franklin, philosopher, Bosto/i, U.S., 1706; David Dale, 
philanthropist, 1739; George Thomas Doo, engraver, 1800. 

j)ie(l. — Seth Ward, Bishop of Salisbury, mathematician, 
16S9; John Dennis, critic, 1734; Madame d'Arblay 
(Frances Barney), novelist, 1840; James Smith, comic 
poet, 1840; Fanny Wright, lady politician, 1853. 


^Modern society lias felt as if there were some- 
tliing wanting in tlie character of Franklin ; yet 
what the man positively had of good about him 
was. beyond aU doubt, extremely good. Self- 
denial, energy, love of 
knowledge, sagacity to 
discern and earnestness 
to pursue what was 
calculated to promote 
happiness amongst 
mankind, scientific in- 
genuity, courage in the 
protection of patriotic 
interests against mis- 
rule — aU were his. How 
few men possess half so 
many high qualities ! 

It is an extremely 
characteristic circum- 
stance that, landing ;i ( 
Falmouth from a dan- 
gerous voyage, and 
going to church witli 
his son to return thank" s 
to Godfortheirdeliver- 
ance, he felt it as an oc- 
casion when a Catholic 
would have vowed t>> 
build a chapel to sonic 
saint : 'not being a Ca- | 
tholic,' said the philo- ' ; 
sopher, ' if I were 1 < i 
vowatalljitwouldbel ' 
build a lighthouse' [tlic 
article found chief! \ 
wanting towards th. 
end of their voyage]. ^^;^ss=5:^^^£iiiffc-. 

It is little known eenja:.i; 

that it was mainly by 

the advice of Franklin that the English govern- 
ment resolved to conqiier Canada, and for that 
purpose sent out Wolfe's expedition. 

While in our island at that time (1759), as agent 
for the colony of Pennsylvania, he made an ex- 

* Franklin is sometimes said to have been born on the 
17th of January. He was, in reality, born on what was 
held at the time of birth as the 6th, being old style. Con- 
sidering that the day of the birth of remarkable men, as 
expressed in their own time, is that round which our asso- 
fciations arrange themselves, it is intended in this work to 
adhere to that date, m all cases where it is known. 

cursion to Scotland, accompanied by his son. 
His reputation as a man of science had made 
him well known there, and he was accordingly re- 
ceived with distinction by Hume, Eobertson, Lord 
Kames, and other literary men of note, was made 
a doctor of St Andrew's University, and a bur- 
gess by the Town Council of Edinburgh. Franklin 
]iaid a long visit to Lord Kames at his seat of 
Kames in Berwickshire, and when he canie away, 
his host and hostess gave him a convoy into the 
English border. Some months after, writing 
to his lordship from London, he said : ' How 
much more agreeable would our journey have 
been, if we could have enjoyed you as far as 
York ! We could have beguiled the way by 
discoursing on a thousand things that now we 
may never have an opportunity of considering 
together; for conversation warms the mind, 
enlivens the imagination, and is continually 
starting fresh game that is immediately piirsued 
and taken, and which would never have occurred 
in the duller intercourse of epistolary correspon- 
dence. So that when- 

ever I reflect on the 
great pleasure and ad- 
vantage I received from 
the free communication 
of sentiment in the con- 
versation we had at 
Kames, and in the 
agreeable little rides to 
the Tweedside, I shall 
ever regret our prema- 
ture parting.' 

' Our conversation,' he 
added, ' until we came 
to York, was chiefly a 
recollection of what we 
had seenandheard, the 
pleasure we had en- 
joj-ed, and the kind- 
nesses we had received 
,.<^ in Scotland, and how 
far that country had 
exceeded our expecta- 
tions. On the whole, I 
must say, I think the 
time we spent there 
I was six weeks of the 
I ffewses^happinesslhave 
; ever met with in any 
])art of my life ; and 
the agreeable and in- 
structive society we 
eiasTicJ found there in such 
plenty, has left so 
pleasing an impression 
on my memory, that, did not strong connections 
draw me elsewhere, I believe Scotland would be 
the country I should choose to spend the remain- 
der of my days in.' 

Soon after. May 3rd, 1760, Franklin commu- 
nicated to Lord Kames a plan he had formed to 
write a little book under the title of The Art of 
Virtue. ' Many people,' he said, ' lead bad lives 
that would gladly lead good ones, but do not 
know ]iow to make the change. They have fre- 
quently resolved and endeavoured it ; but in vain, 
because their endeavours have not been properly 




conducted. To expect people to be good, to be 
just, to be temperate, &c., witliout shewing them 
how they slioidd become so, seems like the 
ineffectual charity mentioned by the Apostle, 
which consisted in saying to the hungry, the 
cold, and the naked, " Be ye fed, be ye warmed, 
be ye clothed," without shewing them how they 
should get food, fire, or clothing. 

' Most people have naturally some virtues, but 
none have naturally all the virtues. 

' To inquire those that are wanting, and secure 
what we require as well as those we have natu- 
rally, is the subject of an art. It isproperly an 
art, as painting, navigation, or architecture. If 
a man would become a painter, navigator, or 
architect, it is not enougli that he is advised to be 
one, that he is convinced by the arguments of his 
adviser that it would be for his advantage to be 
one, and that he resolves to be one ; but he must 
also be taught the j)rinciples of the art, be shewn 
all the methods of working, and how to acquire 
the habits of using properly all the instruments ; 
and thus regularly and gradually he arrives, by 
practice, at some perfection in the art. If he 
does not proceed thus, he is apt to meet with 
difficulties that might discourage him, and make 
him drop the pursuit. 

' MjAri of Viy'tue has also its instruments, and 
teaches the manner of iising them. 

' Christians are directed to have faith in Christ, 
as the effectual means of obtaining the change 
they desire. It may, when siifficiently strong, be 
effectual wdth many ; for a full opinion, that a 
teacher is infinitely wise, good, and powerful, and 
that he will certainly reward and punish the 
obedient and disobedient, must give great weight 
to his precepts, and make them mucli more at- 
tended to by his disciples. But many have this 
faith in so weak a degree, that it does not pro- 
duce the effect. Our Art of Virtue may, there- 
fore, be of great service to those whose faith is 
unhappily not so strong, and may come in aid of 
its weakness. Such as are naturally well-disposed, 
and have been so carefully educated as that good 
habits have been early established and bad ones 
prevented, have less need of this art ; but all may 
be more or less benefited by it.'* 

Between two men of such sentiments as Frank- 
lin and Lord Kames, thrown together for sis 
weeks, the subject of religious toleration we may 
well suppose to have been frequently under dis- 
cussion. Franklin communicated to his Scotch 
friend a small piece, of the nature of an apologue, 
designed to give a lesson of toleration, and which 
Kames afterwards published. It has often been 
reprinted as an original idea of the American 
philosoi)her ; but, in reality, he never pretended 
to anything more than giving it its literary style, 
and the idea can be traced back through a de- 
vious channel to Saadi, the Persian poet, who, 
after all, relates it as coming from another person. 
It Avas as follows : — 

' 1. And it came to pass after these things, that 
Abraham sat in the door of his tent, about the 
going down of the sun. 

' 2. And behold a man, bowed with age, came 
from the way of the wilderness, leaning on a staff. 

* Sparkes's Life and Correspondence of FranJdin. 10 
vols. 8vo. Philadelphia. Vol. ix. 

' 3. And Abraham arose and met him, and 
said unto him, " Turn in, I j)ray thee, and wash 
thy feet, and tarry all night, and thou shalt arise 
early on the morrow, and go on thy way." 

'4. But the man said, "Nay, for I will abide 
under this tree." 

' 5. And Abraham pressed him greatly ; so he 
turned, and they went into the tent, and Abraham 
baked unleavened bread, and they did cat. 

'6. And when Abraham saw that the man 
blessed not God, he said unto him, " Wherefore 
dost thou not worship the most high God, Creator 
of heaven and earth?" 

' 7. And the man answered and said, " I do not 
worship the God thou speakest of, neither do I 
call iipon his name ; for I have made to myself a 
god which abideth alway in mine house, and pro- 
videth me with all things." 

' 8. And Abraham's zeal was kindled against 
the man, and he arose and fell upon him, a.nd 
drove him forth with blows into the wilderness. 

' 9. And at midnight God called unto Abraham, 
saying, " Abraham, where is the stranger? " 

' 10. And Abraham answered and said, " Lord, 
he would not worship thee, neither would he call 
upon thy name ; therefore have I driven him out 
from before my face into the wilderness." 

'11. And God said, "Have I borne with him 
these hundred ninety and eight years, and nour- 
ished him, and clothed him, notwithstanding his 
rebellion against me ; and couldst not thou, that 
art thyself a sinner, bear with him one night? " 

' 12. And Abraham said, " Let not the anger of 
the Lord wax hot against his servant ; lo, I have 
sinned ; forgive me, I pray thee." 

' 13. And Abraham arose, and went forth into 
the wilderness, and sought diligently for the man 
and found him, and returned with him to the 
tent : and when he had entreated him kindly, he 
sent him away on the morrow with gifts.' 

That Franklin should have ascended from the 
condition of a journeyman compositor to be a 


great philosopher and legislator, and 'to stand 
before kings,' is certainly one of the most inte- 
resting biographical facts which the eighteenth 
century presents. Without that frugal use of 
means, the want of which so signally keeps our 
toiling millions poor, it never could have been. 





Of ever memorable value is the anecdote he tells 
of his practice in a Loudon print iui^-olliee. 'I 
drank onl^y -water,' says he ; ' tlie other workmen, 
near iifty in number, -were threat drinkers of beer. 
On one occasion, I carried up and down stairs a 
large form of types iu each baud, when others 
carried but one' in both hands. They wondered 
to see that the Water American, as they called 
me, was stronger than themselves who drank 
strong beer. We had an alehouse boy, who 
always attended iu tlie house to supply the work- 
men. My companion at the press drank every 
day a pint before breakfast, a pint at breakfast 
with his bread and cheese, a pint between break- 
fast and dinner, a pint at dinner, a pint iu the 
afternoon about six o'clock, and another when ho 
had done with his day's work. I thought it a 
detestable custom ; but it was necessary, he sup- 
posed, to drink strong beer that he might be strong 
to labour. I endeavoured to convince him that 
the bodily strength afforded by beer could only 
be in proportion to the grain or tlour of the barley 
dissolved in the water of which it was made ; 
that there was more Hour in a pennyworth of 
bread ; and therefore, if he could eat that with a 
pint of water, it would give him more strength 
than a quart of beer. He drank on, however, 
and had four or five shillings to pay out of his 
wages every Saturday night for that vile liquor ; 
an expense I was free from. And thus these 
poor devils kept themselves always under.' 


The British power went into AfFghanistan, in 
1839, upon an unrighteous cause. The punish- 
ment which Providence, in the natural course of 
events, brings upon such errors, overtook it 
towards the close of 1841, and on the Gth of 
January it became a necessity that an army of 
about 4,500 men, with 12,000 camp followers, 
should commence a precipitate retreat from its 
Caubul cantonments, through a difficult country. 
Tinder frost and. snow, which it was ill-fitted to 
endure, and harassed by hordes of implacable 
enemies. The Noche Triste of Cortez's troops 
on their retirement from Mexico, the terrible 
retreat of Napoleon's army from Moscow, even 
the fearful scenes whicli attended the destruction 
of Jerusalem, scarcely afford a more distressing 
narrative of human woe. The first day's march 
took them five miles through the snow, which 
was in many places dyed with their blood. They 
had to bivouack in it, without shelter, and with 
scarcely any food, and next morning they re- 
sumed their journey, or rather flight, — a long 
confused line of soldiery mixed with rabble, 
camels and other beasts of burden, and ladies 
with their children ; while the native bands were 
continually attacking and plundering. The 
second evening saw them only ten miles advanced 
upon their fatal journey, and the night was again 
spent in the snow, which proved the winding- 
sheet of many before morning. It is believed 
that if they had started more promptly, and 
could have advanced more rapidly, the enemy, 
scarcely prepared to follow them, could not 
have proved so destructive. But the general — 
Elphinstone, — and other chief officers, were 

tempted to lose time in the hope of negotiating 
with the hostile chiefs, and particularly Akbar- 
Khan, for a purchased safety. Unfortunately, 
the native chiefs had little or no control over 
tlieir followers. It was on tliis third day that 
they had to go through the celebrated Xoord- 
Caubul Pass. The force, with its followers, in a 
long disoi'dcrly string, struggled on through the 
narrow delile, suffering under a constant and 
deadly fire from tlie fanatical Ghilzyes, or falling 
under their knives in close encounter. Thus, or 
by falling exhausted in the snow, 3,000 are said 
to have perished. Another night of exposure, 
hunger, and exhaustion followed. Next day, the 
sadly reduced files were stayed for a while, to 
try another negotiation for safety. The ladies 
and the marriecl officers were taken under the 
protection of Akbar-Khan, and were thus saved. 
The remaining soldiery, and particidarly the 
Indian troops, were now parruysed with the 
effects of the cold, and scarcely able to handle or 
carry their arms. Many were butchered this 
day. They continued the march at night, in 
the hope of reaching Jugdulluck, and next day 
they still went on, doing their best to repel the 
enemy as they went. Reduced to a mere hand- 
ful, they still exhibited the devoted courage of 
British soldiers. While the wretched remnant 
halted here, the general and two other officers 
gave themselves up to Akbar-Khan, as pledges 
that Jellalabad would be delivered up for the 
purchase of safety to the troops. The arrange- 
ment only served to save the lives of those three 
officers. The subsequent day's march was still 
harassed by the natives, and at a barrier which 
had been erected in the Jugdulluck Pass, the 
wliole of the remainder were butchered, excepting 
about twenty officers and forty-five soldiers. 
After some further collisions with the foe, there 
came to be only six officers alive at a place about 
sixteen miles from Jellalabad. On the 13th of 
January, the garrison of that fortress saw a 
single man approaching their walls, mounted on a 
wretched little pony, and hanging exhausted upon 
its neck. He proved to be l)r Bryden, the 
only one of the force which left Caubul a week 
before, who had escaped to tell the tale. 

It is easy to shew how the policy of particular 
commanders had a fatal effect in bringing about 
this frightful disaster to the British power — how, 
with better management on their part, the results 
might have been, to some extent, otherwise ; but 
still the great fact remains, that a British army 
was where it ought never to have been, and of 
course exposed to dangers beyond those of fair 
warfare. An ancient Greek dramatist, in bring- 
ing such a tragedy before the attention of his 
audience, would have made the Chorus proclaim 
loudly the wrath of the gods. Ignorant men, of 
our own day, make comments not much different. 
The remark which a just philosophy makes on 
the subject is, tliat God has arranged that justice 
among men should have one set of effects, and 
injustice another. Where nations violate the 
Divine rule to do to others as they would have 
others to do to them, they lay themselves open 
to all the calamitous consequences which natur- 
ally flow from the act, just as surely as do 
individuals when they act m the same manner. 





This day, called Twelfth-Day, as being in that 
number after Christmas, and Epiphany from the 
Greek 'E-Tncpdveia, signifying appearance, is a 
festival of the Church, in commemoration of the 
]\Jan?fesfaiion of Christ to the Gentiles: more 
expressly to the three Magi, or Wise- Men of 
the East, who came, led by a star, to worship 
him immediately after his birth. (Matt. ii. 1-12.) 
The Epiphany appears to have been first ' ob- 
served as a separate feast in the year 813. Pope 
Julius I. is, however, reputed to have taught the 
Church to distinguish the Eeasts of the Nativity 
and Epiphany, so early as about the middle of 
the fourth century. The primitive Christians 
celebrated the Feast of the Nativity for twelve 
days, observing the first and last with great 
solemnity ; and both of these days were denomi- 
nated Epiphany, the first the greater Epiphany, 
from our Lord having on that day become Incar- 
nate, or made His arvjoearance in "the flesh;" 
the latter, the lesser Epiphany, from the three- 
fold manifestation of His Godhead — the first, by 
the appearance of the blazing star which con- 
ducted Melchior, Jasper, and Balthuzar, the 
three Magi, or wise men, commonly styled the 
three Kings of Cologne, out of the East, to 
worship the Messiah, and to offer him presents 
of " Gold, Frankincense, and Myrrh " — Melchior 
the Gold, in testimony of his royalty as the pro- 
mised King of the Jews; Jasper the Frankincense, 
in token of his Divinity ; and Balthuzar the Myrrh, 

in allusion to the sorrows which, in the humiliat- 
ing condition of a man, our Eedeemer vouchsafed 
to take upon him : the second, of the descent of 
the Holy Ghost in the form of a Dove, at the 
Baptism : and the third, of the first miracle of 
our Lord turning water into wine at the marriage 
in Cana. iUl o'f which three manifestations of 
the Divine nature happened on the same day, 
though not in the same year. 

' To render due honour to the memory of the 
ancient Magi, who are supposed to have been 
kings, the monarch of this country himself, either 
personally or through his chamberlain, offers 
annually at the altar on this day, Gold. Frank- 
incense, and Myrrh ; and the kings of Spam, 
where the Feast of Epiphany is likewise called 
the "Feast of the Kings," were accustomed to 
make the like offerings.' — Brady. _ 

In the middle ages, the worship by the Magi 
was celebrated by a little drama, called the 
Feast of the Star. 'Three priests, clothed as 
kings, with their servants carrying offerings, met 
from different directions before the altar. The 
middle one, who came from the east, pointed 
with his staff to a star. A dialogue then ensued ; 
and, after kissing each other, they began to sing, 
"Let us go and' inquire ; " after which the pre- 
centor began a responsory, " Let the Magi come." 
A procession then commenced; and as soon as it 
began to enter the nave, a crown, with a star 
resembling a cross, was lighted up, and pointed 





out to the Magi, with, " Behold the Star in the 
East." This bcinj:; concluded, two priests stand- 
ing at each side of the altar, answered meekly, 
" We are those whoni you seek ; " and, drawing 
a curtain, shewed them a child, whom, falling 
down, they worshipped. Then the servants made 
the ofleriugs of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, 
which were divided among the priests. The Magi, 
meanwhile, continued ]n-aying till they dropped 
asleep ; when a boy, clothed in an alb, like an 
angel, addressed them with, " All things which 
the prophets said are fulfilled." The festival 
concluded with chanting services, &c. At Sois- 
sons, a rope was let down from the roof of the 
church, to which was annexed an iron circle 
having seven tapers, intended to represent Lnci- 
fer, or the morning star ; but this was not con- 
fined to the Feast of the Star.' — Fosbrokc's 
Antiquities, ii. 700. 

At Milan, in 1336, the Festival of the Three 
Kincfs was celebrated in a manner that brings 
forcibly before lis the tendency of the midcUe 
ages to fix attention on the historical externals of 
Christianity. The afliair was got up by the 
Preaching Friars. ' The three kings appeared, 
crowned, on three great horses richly habited, 
surrounded by pages, body guards, and an innu- 
merable retinue. A golden star was exhibited 
in the sky, going before them. They proceeded 
to the pillars of St Lawrence, where King Herod 
was represented with his scribes and wise men. 
The tlu-ee kings ask Herod where Christ should 
be born, and his wise men, having consulted their 
books, answer, at Bethlehem. On which the 
three kings, with their golden crowns, having in 
their hands golden cnps filled with frankincense, 
myrrh, and gold, the star going before, marched 
to the church of St Eustorgius, with all their 
attendants, preceded by trumpets, horns, asses, 
baboons, and a great variety of animals. In the 
church, on one side of the high altar, there was 
a manger with an ox and ass, and in it the infant 
Christ in the arms of his mother. Here the 
three kings offer Him gifts. The concourse of 
the people, of knights, ladies, and ecclesiastics, 
was such as was never before beheld.'* 

In its character as a popular festival, Twelfth- 
Day stands only inferior to Christmas. The 
leading object held in view is to do honour to 
the three wise men, or. as they are more gener- 
ally denominated, the three kings. It is a Chris- 
tian custom, ancient past memory, and probably 
suggested by a pagan custom, to indulge in a 
pleasantry called the Election of Kimjs hy IJeaiis.-f 
In England, in later times, a large cake was 
formed, with a bean inserted, and this was called 
Twelfth- Cake. The family and friends being 
assembled, the cake was divided by lot, and who- 
ever got the piece containmg the bean Avas ac- 
cepted as king for the day, and called King of 
the Bean. The importance of this ceremony in 
France, where the mock sovereign is named Le 
Roi de la Feve, is indicated by the proverbial 

* Warton's Ilistoi-y of English Poetry, quoting a 
Chronicle of Milan, by Gualvanei de la Flamma. 

t ' Some maintain it to have been derived from the 
custom observed by the Somali children, who, at the end 
of their Saturnalia, drew lots with beans, to see who 
would be king.' — Brady. 

phrase for good luck, ' II a trouvo la feve au 
gateau,' He has found the bean in the cake. In 
Kome, they do not draw king and queen as in 
England, but indulge in a number of jocularities, 
very much for the amusement of children. Fruit- 
stalls and confectioners' shops are dressed up 
with great gaiety. A ridiculous figure, called 
Beflana, parades the streets, amidst a storm of 
popular wit and nonsense. The children, on 
going to bed, hang up a stocking, which the 
Beflana is found next morning to have filled with 
cakes and sweetmeats if they have been good, 
but with stones and dirt if they have been 

In England, it appears there was always a 
queen as well as a king on Twelfth-Night. A 
writer, speaking of the celebration in the south of 
England in 1774, says : ' After tea, a cake is pro- 
duced, with two bowls containing the fortunate 
chances for the different sexes. The host fiUs up 
the tickets, and the whole company, except the 
king and queen, are to be ministers of state, 
maids of honour, or ladies of the bed-chamber. 
Often the host and hostess, more by design than 
accident, become king and queen. According 
to Twelfth-Day law, each party is to support his 
character till midnight. 

In the sixteenth century, it would appear that 
some peculiar ceremonies followed the election of 
the king and queen. Barnaby Goodge, in his 
paraphrase of the curious poem of Nageorgus, 
The Po])ish Kingdom, 1570, states that the king, 
on being elected, was raised up with great cries 
to the ceding, where, with chalk, he inscribed 
crosses on the rafters to protect the house against 
evil spirits. 

The sketch on the opposite page is copied from 
an old French print, executed by J. Mariatte, 
representing Le Roi de la Feve (the King of the 
Bean) at the moment of his election, and pre2)aring 
to drink to the company. In France, this act on 
liis part was marked by a loud shout of ' Le Eoi 
boit ! ' (The king drinks,) from the parly 

A Twelfth-Day custom, connected with Paget's 
Bromley in Staffordshire, went out in the seven- 
teenth century. A man came along the village 
with a mock horse fastened to him, with which 
he danced, at the same making a snapping noise 
with a bow and arrow. He was attended by 
half-a-dozen fellow-villagers, wearing mock deers' 
heads, and displaying the arms of the several 
chief landlords of the town. This j)arty danced 
the Sai/s, and other country dances, to music, 
amidst the sympathy and applause of the multi- 
tude. There was also a huge pot of ale with 
cakes by general contribution of the village, out 
of the very surplus of which 'they not only 
repaired their church, but kept their poor too ; 
which charges,' quoth Dr Plot, ' are not now, 
perhaps, so cheerfully borne.' * 

On Twelfth-Night, 1606, Ben Jonson's masque 
of Hymen was performed before the Court ; and 
in 1613, the gentlemen of Gray's Inn were per- 
mitted by Lord Bacon to perform a Twelfth- 
Day masque at "Whitehall. In this masque the 
character of Baby Cake is attended by ' an 

* Natural Ilistory of Staffordshire, 1680, p. 434. 





uslier bearing a great cake with a bean and a 

On Twelfth-Day, 1563, Mary Queen of Scots 
celebrated the French pastime of the King of the 
Bean at Holyrood, but with a queen instead of a 
king, as more appropriate, in consideration of her- 
self being a female sovereign. The lot fell to 
tlic real queen's attendant, Mary Fleming, and 
the mistress good-naturedly arrayed the servant 
in her own robes and jewels, that she might duly 
sustain the mimic dignity in the festivities of the 
night. Tlie English resident, Randolph, -who 
was in love with Mary Beton, another of the 
queen's maids of honour, wrote in excited terms 
about this festival to the Earl of Leicester. 
' Happy was it,' says he, ' unto this realm, that 
her reign endured no longer. Two such sights, 
in one state, in so good accord, I bebevc was 
never seen, as to behold two worthy queens pos- 
sess, without envy, one kingdom, both upon a day. 
I leave the rest to your lordship to be judged of. 
My pen staggereth, my hand faileth, further to 
write. . . . The queen of the bean was that day 
in a gown of cloth of silver ; her head, her neck, 
her shoulders, the rest of her whole body, so 
beset with stones, that more in our whole jewel- 
house were not to be found. . . . The cheer was 
great. I never found myself so happy, nor so 
well treated, until that it came to the point that 
the old queen [Mary] herself, to show her mighty 
power, contrary unto the assurance granted me 
by the younger queen [Mary Fleming], drew me 
into the dance, which part of the play I could 

with good will have spared unto your lordship, 
as much fitter for the purpose.' * 

Charles I. had his masque on Twelfth-Day, 
and the Queen hers on the Shrovetide following, 
the expenses exceeding £2000 ; and on Twelfth- 
Night, 1633, the Queen feasted the King at 
Somerset House, and presented a pastoral, in 
which she took part. 

Down to the time of the Civil Wars, the feast 
was observed with great splendour, not only at 
Court, but at the Inns of Coui't, and the Univer- 
sities (where it was an old custom to choose the 
king by the bean in a cake), as well as in private 
mansions and smaller households. 

Then, too, we read of the English nobility 
keeping Twelfth-Night otherwise than with cake 
and characters, by the diversion of blowing up 
pasteboard castles ; letting claret flow like blood, 
out of a stag made of paste ; the castle bombarded 
from a pasteboard ship, with cannon, in the midst 
of which the company pelted each other with 
egg-shells filled with rose-water ; and large pies 
were made, filled with live frogs, which hopped 
and flew out, upon some curious person lifting up 
the lid. 

Twelfth-Night grew to be a Court festival, in 
wliich gaming was a costly feature. Evelyn tells 
us that on Twelfth-Night, 1662, according to 
custom, his Majesty [Charles II.] opened the 
revels of that night by throwing the dice himself 
in the Privy Chamber, where was a table set 
on purpose, and lost his £100. [The year before 

* Strickland's Lives of the Queens of Scotland, iv. 20. 





he won £1500.] The ladies also played very 
deep. Evelyn came awav when the Duke of 
Orniond had won aboiit ilOOO. and left them 
still at passas^e, eards, &e., at other tables. 

The Eev.^ Henry Teonue. chaplain of one of 
Charles's ships-of-war, describes TwelFth-Isight 
on board: '\Vee had a great kake made, in 
Avhich was put a beane for the kint;, a pease for 
the queen, a cloave for the knave, &c. The kake 
was cut into several pieces in the threat cabin, 
and nil put into a napkin, out of which every one 
took his piece as out of a lottery ; then each 
piece is broaken to see what was in it, which 
caused much laughter, and more to see us tumble 
one over the other in the cabin, by reason of the 
ruir weather.' The celebrated Lord Peterborough, 
then a youth, was one of the party on board this 
ship, as Lord Mordaunt. 

The Lord INIayor and Aldermen and the guilds 
of London iised to go to St Paul's on Twelfth- 
Day, to hear a sermon, which is mentioned as 
an old custom in the early part of Elizabeth's 

A century ago, the king, preceded by heralds, 
pursuivants, and the Knights of the Garter, 
Thistle, and Bath, in the collars of their respective 
orders, went to the Eoyal Chapel at St James's, 
and otFered gold, myrrh, and frankincense, in 
imitation of the Eastern Magi offering to our 
Saviour. Since the illness of George III., the 
procession, and even the personal appearance of 
the monarch, have been discontimxed. Two gen- 
tlemen from the Lord Chamberlain's office now 
appear instead, attended by a box ornamented 
at top with a spangled star, from which they 
take the gold, frankincense, and myrrh, and place 
them on an alms-dish held forth by the officiat- 
ing^ priest. 

in the last century, Ticclfth-Kir/Iit Cards re- 
presented ministers, maids of honour, and other 
attendants of a court, and the characters were 
to be supported throughout the night. John 
Britton, in his Auiohiograjjhy, tells us he 'sug- 
gested and wrote a series of Twelfth-Night 
Characters, to be printed on cards, placed in 
a bag, and drawn out at parties on the memor- 
able and merry evening of that ancient festival. 
They were sold in small packets to pastrycooks, 
and led the way to a custom which annually 
grew to an extensive trade. For the second year, 
mj' pen-and-ink characters were accompanied by 
prints of the different personages by Cruikshank 
(father of the inimitable George), all of a comic 
or ludicrous kind.' Such characters are still 

The celebration of Twelfth-Day with the costly 
and elegant Twelfth-cake has much declined 
within the last half-century. Formerly, in Lon- 
don, the confectioners' shops on this day were 
entirely filled with Twelfth-cakes, ranging in 
price from several guineas to a few shillings ; the 
shops were tastefully illuminated, and decorated 
with artistic models, transparencies, &c. We 
remember to have seen a huge Twelfth-cake in 
tlie form of a fortress, with sentinels and flags ; 
the cake being so large as to fill two ovens in 

One of the most celebrated and attractive 
displays was that of Birch, the confectioner, 

No. 15, Cornhill, probably the oldest shop of 
its class in the meti-opolis. This business was 
established in the reign of King George I., by a 
Mr Horton, who Avas succeeded by Mr Lucas 
Birch, who, in his turn, was succeeded by his son, 
Mr Samuel Birch, born in 1757 ; he was many 
years a member of the Common Council, and was 
elected alderman of the ward of Candlewick. He 
was also colonel of the City Militia, and served 
as Lord Mayor in 1815, the year of the battle of 
Waterloo. In his mayoralty, he laid the first 
stone of the London Institution ; and when Chan- 
trey's marble statue of George III. was inaugu- 
rated in the Council Chamber, Guildhall, the in- 
scription was written by Lord Mayor Birch. He 
possessed considerable literary taste, and wrote 
poems and musical dramas, of which the Adopted 
C/(/W remained a stock piece to our time. The 
alderman used annually to send, as a present, a 
Twelfth-cake to the Mansion House. The upper 

J_^ II n If " r- 3;; 


portion of the house in Cornhill has been rebuilt, 
but the ground-floor remains intact, a curious spe- 
cimen of the decorated shop-front of the last cen- 
tury, and here are preserved two door-plates, 
inscribed, ' Birch, Successor to Mr Horton,' 
which are 140 years old. Alderman Birch died 
in 1840, having been succeeded in the business in 
Cornhill in iSSG by the present proprietors. 
Ring and Brymer. Dr Kitchiner extols the 
soups of Birch, and his skill has long been famed 
in civic banquets. 

We have a Twelfth-Night celebration recorded 
in theatrical history. Baddeley, the comedian 
(who had been cook to Foote), left, by will, money 
to provide cake and wine for the performers, in 
the green-room at Drury-lane Theatre, on Twelfth- 
Night; but the bequest is not now observed in 
this manner. 




CTIjc C'lmubul. 

The period of Carnival — named as beincj car- 
vivale, a farewell to llesli — is well known ns a 
time of merry-making and pleasure, indnlgod in 
in Roman Catliolic countries, in anticipation of 
the abstemious period of Lent: it begins at 
Epiphany, and ends on Ash "Wednesday. Selden 
remarks : ' '\\Tiat the Church debars one day, 
slie gives us leave to take out in another. 
First, we fast, then we feast ; first, there is 
a Carnival, then a Lent.' In these long revels, 
we trace some of the licence of the Saturnalia 
of the Christian Romans, who could not forget 
their pagan festivals. Milan, Rome, and Naples 
Mere celebrated for their carnivals, but they 
were carried to their highest perfection at 
Venice. Bishop HaU, in his Triumphs of 
Home, thus describes the Jovial Carnival 
of that city : ' Every man cries Seiolta, 
letting himself loose to the maddest of merri- 
ments, marching wildly up and down in all forms 
of disguises ; each man striving to outgo others 
in strange pranks of humorous debauchedness, 
in which even those of the holy order are wont 
to be allowed their share ; for, howsoever it was 
by some sullen authority forbidden to clerks and 
votaries of any kind to go masked and misguised 
in those seemingly abusive solemnities, yet more 
favourable construction hath offered to make 
them believe it was chiefly for their sakes, for the 
refreshment of their sadder and more restrained 
spirits, that this free and lawless festivity was 
taken up.' 

In modern Rome, the masquerading in the 
streets and all the out-of-door amusements are 
limited to eight days, during which the gro- 
tesque maskers pelt each other with, sugar- 
plums and bouquets. These are poured from 
baskets from the balconies down upon the 
maskers in carriages and afoot ; and they, in 
their turn, pelt the company at the windows : 
the confetti are made of chalk or flour, and a 
hundredweight is ammunition for a carriage-full 
of roisterers. 

The Races, however, are one of the most strik- 
ing out-of-door scenes. The horses are without 
riders, but have spurs, sheets of tin, and all sorts 
of things hung about them to urge them onward ; 
across the end of the Piazza del Popolo is 
stretched a rope, in a line with which the horses 
are brought up ; in a second or two, the rope is 
let go, and away the horses fly at a fearful rate 
down the Corso. which is crowded with people, 
among whom the pli;nging and kicking of the 
steeds often produce serious damage. 

Meanwhile, there is the Church's Carnival, or 
the Carnivale Sandificato. There are the regular 
spiritual exercises, or retreats, which the Jesuits 
and Passionists give in their respective houses 
for those who are able to leave their homes and 
shut themselves up in a monasteiy during the 
whole ten days ; the Via Crucis is practised in 
the Coliseum every afternoon of the Carnival, 
and this is followed by a sermon and benediction ; 
and there arc similar devotions in the churches. 
In the colleges are given ])lays, the scenery, 
drops, and acting being better than the average 
of public performances ; and between the acts 

are ])layed solos, duets, and overtures, by the 
students or their friends. 

The closing revel of the Carnival is the Mocco- 
leiti, when the sport consists in the crowd carry- 
ing lighted tapers, and trying to put out eacli 
other's taper with a handkerchief or towel, and 
shouting Sens moccolo. M. Dumas, in his Count 
of Monte Christo, thus vividly describes this 
strange scene : 

' The moccolo or moecoletti are candles, which 
vary in size from the paschal taper to the rushlight, 
and cause the actors of the great scene which 
terminates the Carnival two different subjects of 
anxiety : 1st, how to preserve their moecoletti 
lighted ; secondly, how to extinguish the moeco- 
letti of others. The moccolo is kindled by ap- 
proaching it to a light. But who can describe 
the thousand means of extinguishing the moeco- 
letti ? The gigantic bellows, the monstrous extin- 
guishers, the superhuman fans ? The night was 
rapidly approaching : and, already, at the shrill 
cry of Moecoletti ! repeated by the shrill voices 
of a thousand vendors, two or three stars began 
to twinkle among the crowd. This was the 
signal. In about ten minutes, fifty thousand 
lights fluttered on every side, descending from 
the Palais de Venise to the Plaza del Popolo, and 
mounting from the Plaza del Popolo to the Palais 
de Venise. It seemed ike fete of Jack-o'-Lanterns. 
It is impossible to form any idea of it without 
having seen it. Suppose all the stars descended 
from the sky, and mingled in a wild dance on 
the surface of the earth ; the whole accompanied 
by cries such as are never heard in any other 
part of the world. The facchino follows the 
prince, the transtavere the citizen: every one 
blowing, extinguishing, re-lighting. Had old 
iEolus appeared at that moment, he would have 
been proclaimed king of the moccoli, and Aquilo 
the heir-presumptive to the throne. This flaming 
race continued for two hours : the Rue du 
Cour was light as day, and the features of the 
spectators on the third and fourth stories were 
plainly visible. Suddenly the bell sounded which 
gives the signal for the Carnival to close, and at 
the same instant all the moecoletti were extin- 
guished as if by enchantment. It seemed as 
though one immense blast of wind had extin- 
guished them all. No sound was audible, save 
that of the carriages which conveyed the masks 
home ; nothing was visible save a few lights that 
gleamed behind the windows. The Carnival was 

In Paris, the Carnival is principally kept on 
the three days preceding Ash Wednesday ; and 
upon the last day, the procession of the Ba;uf-ffra.i, 
or Government prize ox, passes through the 
streets ; then all is quiet until the Thursday of 
Mid-Lent, or Mi-eareme, on which day only the 
revelry breaks out wilder than ever. 


One of the best specimens of this kind of com- 
position is the poem said to have been addressed 
by Shaks])eare to the AVarwickshire beauty, Ann 
liatliaway, whom he afterwards married. Though 
his biographers assert that not a fragment of the 





Bai-d of Avon's poetry on tliis lady lias been res- 
cued from oblivion, yet, that Shalcspcare had an 
early disposition to write sueli verses, may be 
reasonably concluded from a passage m Love s 
Labour Lost, in uhleh lie says : 

' Never durst poet teach a pen to write,^ _ ^ 
Until his ink were tempered with love's sighs. 

The lines, whether Avritten by Shalcspeare or 
uot, exhibit a clever play upon words, and are 
inscribed : 


Would ye be taught, ye feathered throng. 
With love's sweet notes to grace your song, 
To pierce the heart \ni\\ thrilling lay, 
Jjisteu to mine Ann Hathaway ! 
She hath a way to sing so clear, 
Phoebus might wondering stop to hear. 
To melt the sad, make blithe the gay, 
And Nature charm, Ann hath a Avay ; 

She hath a way, 
Ann Hathaway ; 
To breathe delight. Aim hath a way. 
When Envy's breath and rancorous tooth 
Do soil and bite fair worth and truth. 
And merit to distress betray. 
To soothe the heart Ann hath a Avay. 
She hath a Avay to chase despair. 
To heal all grief, to cure all care. 
Turn fonlesl night to fairest day. 
Thou know'st, fond heart. Aim hath a way ; 

She hath a way, 

Ann Hathavay ; 
To make grief bliss, Ann hath a way. 
Talk not of gems, the orient list. 
The diamond, topaze, amethyst. 
The emerald mild, the ruby gay ; 
Talk of my gem, Ann Hathaway ! 
She hath a way, with her bright eye, 
Their various lustre to defy, — 
The jewels she, and the fod they. 
So sweet to look Ann hath a way ; 

She hath a way, 

Ann Hathaway ; 
To shame bright gems, Ann hath a way. 

But were it to my fancy given 

To rate her charms, I 'd call them heaven ; 

For though a mortal made of clay, 

Angels must love Ann HathaAvay; 

She" hath a way so to control. 

To rapture the imprisoned soul. 

And sweetest heaven on earth cbsplay, 

That to be heaven Ann hath a way ; 

She hath a Avay, 

Ann HathaAvay ; 
To be heaven's self, Ann hath a way ! ' 

When James I. visited the house of Sir 
Thomas Pope in Oxfordshire, the knight's in- 
fant daughter was presented to the king, with 
a piece of paper in her hands, bearing these 
lines : 

' See ! this little mistress here 
Did never sit in Peter's chair. 
Neither a triple crown did wear ; 
And yet she is a Pope ! 

No benefice she ever sold, 
Nor did cbspense Avith sin for gold ; 
She hardly is a fortnight old. 
And yet she is a Pope ! 


No king her feet did ever kiss. 

Or liad from her Avorse looks than tliis ; 

Nor (lid she CA^er hope 

To saint one with a rope, 

And yet she is a Pope ! 

' ' A female Pope ! " you '11 say — " a second Joan ! " 
No, sm-e — she is Pope Innocent, or none. ' 

The following on a lady rejoicing in the name of 
Eain is not unworthy of a place here : 

' Whilst shivering beaux at weather rail, 
Of frost, and suov/, and Avind, and hail, 

And heat, and cold, complain, 
My steadier mind is always bent 
On one sole object of content — 
I ever wish for Ptain ! 

Hymen, thy votary's prayer attend. 
His anxious hope and suit befriend, 

Let him not ask in vain ; 
His thirsty soul, his parched estate, 
His glowing breast commiserate — 

In pity give him Ilain ! ' 

Another amorous rhymester thus Avrites : 


Careless by name, and Careless by nature ; 

Careless of shape, and Careless of feature. 

Careless in di-ess, and Careless in air ; 

Careless of riding, in coach or in chair. 

Careless of love, and Careless of hate ; 

Careless if crooked, and Careless if straight. 

Careless at table, and Careless in bed ; 

Careless if maiden, not Careless if Aved. 

Careless at church, and Careless at play ; 

Careless if company go, or they stay. 

E'en Careless at tea, not minding chit-chat ; 

So Careless ! she's Careless for this or for that. 

Careless of all love or Avit can propose ; 

She's Careless — so Careless, there's nobody knows. 

Oh ! how I coidd love thee, thou dear Careless thing ! 

(Oh, happy, thrice happy ! I 'd envy no king.) 

Were you Carefid for once to return me my love, 

I 'd care not hoAV Careless to others you 'd prove. 

I then should be Careless how Careless you were ; 

And the more Careless you, still the less I shoidd care.' 

Thomas Longfellow, landlord of the ' Golden 
Lion ' inn at Brecon, must have pulled a rather 
long face, when he observed the following lines, 
written on the mantelshelf of his coffee-room : 

' Tom Longfellow's name is most justly his due : 
Long his neck, long his bid, Avhich is very long too ; 
Long the time ere your horse to the stable is led. 
Long before he 's rubbed down, and much longer till 

Long indeed may you sit in a comfortless room, 
Tni'from kitchen long dirty yom- dinner shall come : 
Long the often-told tale that your host wiU relate, 
Long his face Avhde complaining how long people eat ; 
Long may Longfellow long ere he see me again — 
Long 'twiU be ere I long for Tom Longfellow's inn.' 

Nor has the House of Lords, or even the 
Church, escaped the pens of irreverent rhyming 
punsters. When Dr Goodenough preached before 
the Peers, a wag wrote : 

' 'Tis well enough, that Goodenough 
Before the Lords should preach ; 
For, sure enough, they're bad enough 
He undertakes to teach. ' 

iMiYTniiiCAL ruxs. 



Again, when Arclibishop Moore, djnng, was 
succeeded by Dr Manners Sutton, the following 
lines were circulated : 

' What say you ? the Archbishop 's dead ? 
A loss indeed ! — Oh, on his head 

May Heaven its blessings pour I 
But if with such a heart aud mind. 
In Manners we his equal liud. 

Why shoidd we wish for M-ore ? ' 

Our next example is of a rather livelier descrij)- 
tiou : 

' At a tavern one night, 
Messrs More, Sti-auge, and Wright 
Met to driidc and their good thoughts exchange. 
Says More, "Of us three, 
The whole will agree, 
There's only one knave, and that's Strange." 

"Yes," says Strange, rather sore, 

" I 'ni siu'e there 's one More, 
A most terrible kuave, and a bite. 

Who cheated his mother. 

His sister, and brother." 
" Oh yes," repHed More, " that is Wright." ' 

Wright again comes in very appropriately iu 
these lines written 


What, Wright alive ! I thought ere this 

That he was in the realms of bliss ! 

Let us not say that Wright is -wTong, 

Merely for holding out so long ; 

But ah ! 'tis clear, though we 're bereft 

Of many a friend that Wright has left. 

Amazing, too, in such a case. 

That Wright aud left should thus change place ! 

Not that I 'd go such lengths as quite 

To tliink him left because he 's Wright : 

But left he is, we plainly see. 

Or Wright, we know, he could not be : 

For when he treads death's fatal shore, 

We feel that Wright will be no more. 

He 's, therefore, Wright whde left ; but, gone, 

Wright is not left : and so I 've done. ' 

When Sir Thomas More was Chancellor, it is 
said that, by his unremitting attention to the 
duties of his high office, all the litigation in the 
Court of Chancery was brouglit to a conclusion 
in his lifetime ; giving rise to the following 
epigram : 

' When More some years had Chancellor been. 

No more suits did remain. 
The same shall never more be seen, 
Till More be there again.' 

More has always been a favourite name with 
the punsters — they have even followed it to the 
tomb, as is shown in the following epitaph in St 
Ijcnet's Churchyard, Paul's AVJiarf, London : 

' Here lies one More, and no more than he. 

One More and no more ! how can that be ? 

Why, one More and no more may well lie here alone ; 

But here lies one More, and that's more than one.' 

Punning epitaphs, however, arc not altogether 
rarities. Tlie following was in8cril:)cd in Peter- 
borough Cathedral to the memory of Sir llichard 
Worme : 

' Does worm eat Worme ? Knight Wonne this truth 

couhrms ; 
For here, with worms, lies Worme, a dish for worms. 
Does Worme eat worm ? Sure Worme will this 

deny ; 
For worms with Worme, a dish for Worme don't lie. 
'Tis so, and 'tis not so, for free from worms 
'Tis certain Worme is blest without his worms.' 

In the churchyard of Barro-upon-Soar, in 
Leicestershire, there is another punning epitaph 
on one Cave : 

' Here, in this grave, there lies a Cave : 

We call a cave a grave. 
If cave be grave and grave be Cave, 

Then, reader, judge, I crave. 
Whether doth Cave lie hero in grave, 

Or grave here lie iu Cave : 
If grave in Cave here buried lie. 
Then, grave, where is thy victory ? 
Go, reader, and report, here lies a Cave, 
Who conquers death, and buries his own grave.' 


St Luclan, of Antioch, priest and martyr, 312. St Cedd, 
bishop of London, 7th century. St Thillo, 702. St Ken- 
tigerna, widow, 728. St Aldric, bishop of ]\Ians, 856. 
St Canut, 1171. 

St Lucian, whose name occurs in the calendar 
of the Church of England on the 8th of January, 
being the fii'st lloman priest who occurs and is 
retained there, was a learned Syrian who busied 
himself in revising the Holy Scriptures — was for 
a while disaffected to ortliodox doctrine, but after- 
wards conformed to it, and finally died at Nico- 
media, after a long imprisonment. 

St Cedd was an Anglo-Saxon saint, who took a 
prominent part in Christianising his hitherto 
heathen countrymen in the midland districts of 
England. He long served God in the monastery 
of Lindisfarne, and afterwards was appointed 
bishop of the East Saxons. Amongst his noted 
acts was the building of a monastery at Tilbury, 
near the mouth of the Thames. 

Born.— Robert Nicoll, poet, 1814. 
2>/c(^.— Fenelou de la Motlie, 1715 ; Allan Eamsay, 
the Scottish poet, 1757 ; J. H. Frere, poet, 184G. 


Francois dc Salignac de la Mothe Fenelon was 
born at Perigord, in 1651. He preached a sermon 
at the early age of fifteen, before a select assem- 
bly at Paris • but his uncle, the Marquis de 
Fenelon, fearing that the jn-aises of the world 
would make the boy vain, caused him to enter 
the seminary of St Sulpice, where he remained 
several years and took orders. He was sent by 
Louis XIV. to Poitou, to convert the Protestants, 
when he nobly refused the aid of dragoons, relying 
solely on his powers of persuasion. He was 
appointed tutor to the young Duke of Burgundy, 
and in five years Louis made him Archbishop of 
Cambray. Thence began his troubles : he was 
suspected of favouring the doctrines of the 





Qiiiotists, aucl upon his refusing to condemn 
them, ]5ossuet denounced him to the kiiig us 
a heretic, and he was eventually banished irom 
the court ; he, however, signed a recavilalion, 
and would have been restored to roj'al favour, 
had not his celebrated romance of Tch'maquc, 
which he had written some j-ears before, been 
published against his will, through the treachery 
of a servant. Louis suspected several passages 
in this work to be directed against himself; it 
was suppressed in France, but rapidly circulated 
in Holland ; and perha]is there is no book in the 
French language which has been more read. It 
is. at this daj% a class-book in almost every Euro- 
pean school. His work on Female Education, 
published in 1GS8, pi'oceeds upon the imiformly 
indulgent theory, — teaching without tears. He 
wrote his DiaJogacs of the l)cad for the use of his 
pupil, the Duke of Burgundy : his noble zeal 
in not sparing the vices of kings shines through- 
out the Avork. Ilis political opinions were liberal ; 
and his acts of benevolence were munificent : 
in the j^ear 1709 he fed the French army at his 
own expense. 

SI Jitslnff's JlajT. 

As the first free day after the twelve by which 
Christmas was formerly celebrated, the 7th of 
January was a notable one among our ancestors. 
They jocularly called it St Distaff" s Daj/, or 
JSoci- Day, because by women the rock or distaff 
was then resumed, or proposed to be so. The 
duty seems to have been considered a dubious 
one, and when it was complied with, the plough- 
men, who on their part scarcely felt called upon 
on this day to resume work, made it their sport to 
set the flax a-burning ; in requital of which prank, 
the maids soused the men from the water-pails. 
Herrick gives us the popular ritual of the day 
in some of his cheerful stanzas : 

' ST distaff's day ; OR, THE JIOEROW AFTKR 

Partly work and partly play 
You must on St Distaff's Day : 
From the plough soon free yt)iir team ; 
Then come home and fotlier them : 
If the maids a-sjiinuing go, 
Bm-n the flax and fire the tow. 
Bring in pails of water then, 
Let the maids hewash the men. 
Give St Distaff all the right : 
Then bid Christmas sport good uight, 
And next morrow every one 
To his own vocation.' 

This mirthful observance recalls a time when 
spinning was the occupation of almost all women 
who had not anything else to do, or during the 
intervals of other and more serious work— a 
cheering resource to the solitary female in all 
ranks of life, an cnlivcnment to every fireside 
scene. To spin — how essentially was the idea at 
one time associated with the female sex ! even to 
that extent, that in England spinster was a recog- 
nised legal term for an unmarried woman— the 
spear side and the distaff side were legal terms 
to distinguish the inheritance of male from that 
of female children— and the distaff became a 
68 -^ 

s3nionym for woman herself : thus, the French 
proverb was : ' The crown of France never falls 
to the distaff.' Now, through the change wrought 
by the organised industries of Manchester and 
Glasgow, the princess of the fairy tale who was 
destined to die by a spindle piercing her hand, 
might wander from the Land's End to John o' 
Groat's House, and never encounter an article of 
the kind, unless in an archaeological museum. 

Mr .Tohn Yonge Akerman, in a paper read 
before the Society of Antiquaries, has carefully 
traced the memorials of the early use of the dis- 
tafl' and spindle on the monuments of Egypt, in 
ancient mytJiology and ancient literature, and 
everywhere shews these implements as the in- 
signia of womanhood. We scarcely needed such 
proof for a fact of which Ave have assurance in 
the slightest refiection on human needs and 
means, and the natural place of woman in human 
society. The distaff and spindle must, of course, 
have been coeval with the first efforts of our 
race to frame textures for the covering of their 
persons, for they are the very simplest arrange- 
ment for the formation of thread : the distaff, 
whereon to hang the flax or tow — the spindle, a 
loaded pin or stick, whereby to effect the twist- 
ing ; the one carried under the arm, the other 
dangling and turning in the fingers below, and 
forming an axis round Avhicli to Avind parcels of 
the thread as soon as it was made. Not wonder- 
ful is it that Solomon should speak of woman as 
laying her hands to the distafl (Prov. xxxi. 19), 
that the implement is alluded to by Homer and 
Herodotus, and that one of the oldest of the my- 
thological ideas of Greece represented the Three 
Fates as spinning the thread of human destiny. 
Not A^ery surprising is it that otir OAvn Chaucer, 
five hundred years ago, classed this art among 
the natural endowments of the fair sex in his 
ungallaut distich : 

' Deceit, Avcepiug, spinning, God hath given 
To Avomeu kindly, Avhile they may live. ' 

It was admitted in those old days that a woman 
could not quite make a livelihood by spinning ; 
but, says Anthony Fitzliei'bert, in his Bolcc of 
Siishandrie, ' it stoppeth a gap,' it saveth a 
woman from being idle, and the product , was 
needful. No rank was above the use of the 
spindle. Homer's princesses only had them gilt. 
The lady carried her distaff in her gemmed 
girdle, and her spindle in her hand, when she 
Avent to spend half a day Avith a neighbouring 
friend. The farmer's Avife had her maids about 
her in the evening, all spinning. So lately as 
Burus's time, Avhen lads and lasses came together 
to spend an evening in social glee, each of the 
latter brought her spinning apparatus, or ruck,* 
and the assemblage Avas called a rochincj : 

' On Fasteu's eve we had a roctinr/.^ 

It Avas doubtless the same with Horace's t(xor 
Sahina, perusta solihus, as with Burns's bonnie 

The ordinary spindle, throughout all times, 

Avas a turned pin of a fcAv inches in length, 

having a nick or hook at the small and iipper 

end, by which to fasten the thread, and a load of 

* From the German, rocken. 




some sort at the lower eud to make it hang 
rightly. In very early times, and in such rude 
nations as the Laps, till more recent times, the 
load was a small perforated stone, many examples 
of which (called whorls) are preserved in anti- 
quarian museums. It would seem from the 
]^]gyptian monuments as if, among those people, 
the whorl had been carried on the top. 

Some important improvements apiiear to have 
been made in the distaft" and spindle. In Stow's 
Chronicle, it is stated : ' About the 20th year 
of Henry VIII., Anthony Bonvise, an Italian, 
came to this land, and taught English people 
to spin with a distaff, at which time began 
the making of Devonshire kersies and Coxall 
clothes.' Again, Aubrey, in his NaturallLifitorij 
of WiUshirc, says : ' The art of spinning is so 
much improved within these last forty years, 
that one pound of wool makes twice as much 
cloath (as to extent) as it did before the Civill 


It is hard to say when the spinning-whccl 
superseded the simpler process of the distalF and 
spindle. The Avheel is stated, in the Dictionnaire 
des Orifjines, to have been invented by a citizen 
of Brunswick in 1533 ; three years bei'ore was 
printed the Dictionary of Palsgrave, wherein we 
find the phrase, 'I spynnc upon a rock,' rendered 
' Je file au rouet.' 

We have, however, evidence, in a manuscript 
in the British Museum, written early in the four- 
teenth century, of the use of a spinning-wheel at 
that date : herein are several representations of 
a woman spinning with a wheel : she stands at 
her work, and the wheel is moved with her i-ight 
hand, while with her left she twirls the spindle : 
this is the wheel called a torn, the term for a 
spinning-wheel still used in some districts of 
England. The spinning-wheel said to have been 
invented in 1533 was, doubtless, that to which 
women sat, and which was worked with the 

Spinning with the wheel was common with the 
recluses in England : Aubrey tells us that Wilt- 
shire was full of religious houses, and that old 
Jacques ' could see from his house the nuns of 
Saint Mary's (juxta Kington) come forth into 
the Nym])h Hay with their rocks and wheels to 
spin, and with their sewing work.' And in his 

MS. Natural History of Wiltshire, Aubrey says : 
' In the old time they used to spin with rocks ; 
in Staffordshire, they use them still.' 

The change from the distaff and spindle to the 
spinning-wheel appears to have been almost 
coincident with an alteration in, or modification 
of, our legal phraseology, and to have abrogated 
the use of the word spinster when applied to 
single women of a certain rank. Coke says : 
' Generosus and Gcnerosa are good additions : 
and, if a gentlewoman bo named spinster in any 
original writ, etc., appeale, or indictmente, she 
may abate and quash the same ; for she hath as 
good right to that addition as Baronesse, Vis- 
countesse, Marchionesse, or Dutchesse have to 
theirs.' Blount, in his Law Dictionary, saj^s of 
spinster : ' It is the addition usually given to all 
unmarried women, from the Viscount's daughter 
downward.' In his GlossograpMa, he says of 
spinster: 'It is a term or addition in our law 
dialect, given in evidence and writings toafenwie 
sole, as it were calling her spinner : and this is 
the only addition for all immarried women, from 
the Viscount's daughter downward.' 

' I am unable ' (says Mr Akerman) ' to trace 
these distinctions to their source, but they are 
too remarkable, as indicating a great change of 
feeling among the upper classes in the sixteenth 
century, to be passed unnoticed. May we sup- 
pose that, among other causes, the artof j)riuting 
had contributed to bring about this change, 
affording employment to women of condition, 
who now devoted themselves to reading instead 
of applying themselves to the primitive occupa- 
tion of their graudmothcrs ; and that the wheel 
and the distaif being left to humbler hands, the 
time-honoured name of spinster was at length 
considered too homely for a maiden above the 
common rank. 

Before the science of the moderns banished 
the spinning-wheel, some extraordinary feats were 
accomplished with it. Thus, in the year 1745, 
a woman at East Dereham, in JSTorfolk, spun a 
single pound of wool into a thread of 8-i,000 yards 
in length, wanting only 80 yards of 48 miles, 
which, at the above period, was considered a 
circumstance of suilicient curiosity to merit a 
place in the Proceedings of the Ivoyal Society. 
Since that time, a young lady of jSTorwich has 
spun a pound of combed wool into a thread of 
108,000 yards ; and she actually produced from 
the same weight of cotton a thread of 203,000 
yards, eciual to upwards of 115 miles : this last 
Ihread, if woven, would produce about 20 yards 
of yard-wide muslin. 

The spinning-wheel has almost left us — with 
the lace-pillow, the hour-glass, and the horn- 
book ; but not so on the Continent. ' The art of 
spinning, in one of its simplest and most primitive 
forms, is yet pursued in Italy, where the country- 
women of Caia still turn the sjiindle, unrestrained 
by that ancient rural law which forbade its use 
without doors. The distaff has outlived the 
consular fasces, and survived the conquests of the 
Goth and the Uun. But rustic hands alone now 
sway the sceptre of Tanaquil, and all but the 
peasant disdain a practice which once beguiled 
the leisure of high-born dames.' 





^cvmou ia .the Ictus. 

7tli Januaiy IG 15, Mr Jolm Evclj^n Aras pre- 
sent at !i ]ieculiar coromoiiy wliich sccnv^s to luivc 
boini of annual occurrence at llorac. It was a 
sermon preacliecl to a compulsory con,s;rcgation 
of Jews, with a view to their convci'sion. Mr 
]"]velyn says : ' They are constrained to sit till 
the hour is done, but it is with so much malice 
in their countenances, spittino', liummincf, cou'j^h- 
inj^, and motion, that it is almost impossible tlicy 
shoidd hear a word from the ]3i'eachcr. A con- 
version is very rare.' * 

(Ealtlc iit |[auuariT. 

Worthy Thomas Tusser, who, in Queen Mary's 
time, wrote a doifgrcl code of agriculture under 
the name of Five Jlnndrccl Points of Good Hits- 
handrt/,\ recommends the farmei", as soon as 
Christmas observances are past, to begin to 
attend carefully to his stock. 

' T^Tio Loth liy his calf aud liis lamb will be known, 
^lay well kill a ueat and a sheep of his own ; 
And he that can rear up a pig in his house, 
Hath cheaper his bacon and sweeter his souse. ' 

He urges the gatliering up of dung, the mending 
of hedges, and the storing of fuel, as employ- 
ments for this month. The scarcity in those 
days of fodder, especially when frost lasted long, 
he reveals to us by his direction that all trees 
should be pruned of their superfluous boughs, 
that the cattle might browse upon them. The 
myrtle and ivy were the wretched fare he 
pointed to for the sheep. The homely verses of 
this old poet give us a lively idea of the difficul- 
ties of carrjnng cattle over the winter, before 
the days of field turnips, and of the miserable 
expedients which were had recourse to, in order 
to save the poor creatures from absolute starva- 
tion : 

' From Christmas till ]\Iay be well entered in. 
Some cattle wax faint, and look poorly and thin ; 
And chiefly when prime grass at first doth appear, 
Then most is the danger of all the whole year. 

Take verjuice and heat it, a pint for a cow, 
Buy salt, a haudfid, to rub tongue ye wot how : 
That done with the salt, lot hei- drink off the rest ; 
This many times raiseth the feeble up beast.' 

CoumdioiT of ^isfant gigcs bjr tbc "^'xk^ of 

The shortness at once and speed of human life 
are brought strongly before our minds when Ave 
cast the simplest look back upon our own career, 
find ourselves grandfathers so long before what 
appears the proper time, and finally discover that 
we are about to leave the world with not half of 
our plans and wishes accomplished. The matter 
IS also very pointedly illustrated by the great 
changes which every one finds in the personnel 
of his surrounding world every ten years or so ; 

* Evelyn's Diary, i. p. 136. 

t Reprint by Lackington, Allen and Co., 1812. 


the boys become men, the little girls now reckon- 
ing each their two or three babies, the matronly 
hostesses aa'Iio used to sit at the heads of hospit- 
able tables now retired into (piiet dowagerhood, 
the vigorous mature men now becoming shaky 
and unfit for business, the old and venerable 
now to be found only in the clmrchj-ard ! On 
the other hand, one sometimes get an exhilaration 
as to human life and his own individual pros- 
pects, by instances of lives at once remarkably 
protracted and attended by singular health and 
vigour. To find a Brougham at eighty -two 
heading a great social gathering like that which 
took place at Glasgow in September 1860, or a 
Lyndhurst at eighty-eight pouring out the words 
of experience and sagacity in the House of Lords 
for four hours at a time, is felt by all younger 
persons as a moral glass of champagne. The day 
looks brighter by our even hearing such a fact 
alluded to. And the reason obviously is that we 
get from such facts a conviction of pleasant possi- 
bilities for ourselves. We all feel that such may, 
in favouring circumstances, be our own case. It 
seems to imply that Time is, after all, not so 
deadly an enemy to us as he is generally repre- 
sented : if Ave use him well, he will use us Avell. 
There is, moreover, a spirit in man which gives 
him the desire and the power to resist the influ- 
ence of sui-rounding agencies. We delight to 
brave cold, hunger, fatigue, and danger. The 
unconquerable Avill joyfully hardens itself to 
throAV off the common eifects of life's many evils. 
It is a joy to this spirit to find that some valorous 
souls can and do live on, and on, and on, so long, 
seeming as if they had acquired some mastery 
over fate itself — that Power — ' nil miser antis 
Orci,' — before which, alas, we must all fall sooner 
or later. 

There is, we must admit, a limit to this satis- 
faction ; for when life becomes in any instance 
protracted to a decidedly extraordinary extent, 
the individual necessarily feels himself amongst 
strangers — perhaps helplessly dependent on them 
— the voice of every youthfid companion hushed 
— AA-ife, perhaps even children, removed from his 
side — ncAV things in Avhich he has no i>art or 
vocation all around him. Then, indeed, it were 
better for him to follow those who have gone 
before. Yet, while the spectacle of such a super- 
fluous relic of past ages gives us, of course, little 
pleasure in the contemplation, and can inspire us 
with no ]deasant anticipations, it may become a 
matter of considerable interest to a mind which 
dwells upon time Avith a regard to cither its 
historical or its sentimental relations. 

For example, whde no one could wish to imi- 
tate the recently deceased American, Ilalph 
Farnhara, in length of days — the fact being that 
he lived to 107 — no one could see him, as the 
Prince of Wales did in November 18G0, and 
reflect that here was still in the body one of the 
little civic band Avhicli defended Bunker Hill in 
1775, without feelings of extreme interest. Such 
a man, thus so long surviving the multitude 
amongst whom he once acted, becomes to us as 
one returned from the dead. He ought to be a 
shadow and a recollection, and behold he is a 
reality ! The whole story of the War of American 
Independence is now so far removed into the 




region of history, that any living link between 
it and the present time is necessarily heard of 
with extreme surprise. Yet Lord Lyndhurst, 
who stiU (1862) takes a part in our public affairs, 
was born in 13oston, a British subject, the State 
of Massachusetts being then and for some years 
later a British province. 

The affair of the Forty-five precedes the sti'ug- 
gle for American independence by thirty years ; 
yet even that event is brought into apparent 
closeness to us by many surprising connections. 
There were still one or two Culloden men living 
when George IV. was king : one came to see him 
at Holyrood in 1822, and greeted him as ' the 
last of his enemies.' It is worth noting that an 
uncle of the present Lord Torphichen (1862) was 
an officer in the royal army in 174-5, was present 
at the battle of Prestonpans, and is noted by 
Dr Carlyle in his Aidohiograpliif as the only 
wounded man on the king's side who was carried 
to Bankton House, all the other wounded people 
taken there being Highlanders. [Lord Torphi- 
chen, however, had another nncle, who, when a 
boy in 1720, was supposed to be bewitched, and 
thus was the cause of a fast being held in Calder 
parish, and of three or four poor persons being 
imprisoned under suspicion of sorcery !] That 
there should be now moving in society in Edin- 
burgh, a lady whose father-in-law attended the 
Prince in his wanderings, does not call for parti- 
cular remark. It becomes more startling to hear 
Mr Andrew Coventry, of Edinburgh, a gentleman 
in the vigour of life, speak of having dined with 
the mother-in-laut of the gaUaut Charles Edward. 
He did so in 1823, at the house of Mr Bethmann 
in Frankfort. This lady was the Princess Stol- 
berg, then ninety years of age. Her daughter, 
the Princess Louisa de Stolberg, had married 
the Prince about fifty years before. It appears 
from a note in Earl Stanhope's History of 
England, that his lordship also was introduced 
to the Princess at Frankfort. He states that she 
was 'still lively and agreeable,' and that she 
lived till 1826. ' It is singular,' his lordship very 
naturally adds, ' that a man born eighty-five 
years after the Chevalier, should have seen his 

When George IV. acceded to the throne in 
1820, he had occasion to remark a very curious 
circumstance connecting his reign with one which 
we are accustomed to consider as remote. The 
decorations of the Order of the Garter, which 
then returned to the king from his deceased 
father, had only been worn by two persons since 
the reign of Cliarlcs II. ! By that monarch they 
had been conferred upon tlie Duke of Somerset — 
lie wlio was commonly called the Proud Duke — 
and by him they had been retained till his death 
in 1748, Avhen they were conferred upon the 
young Prince of Wales, subsequently George III. 
The entire time embraced by the two tenures of 
tlie honour was about a hundred and forty years. 
It was remarkable of the Duke of Somerset, that 
lie figured in the pageants and politics of six 
reigns. ' At the funeral of Charles II., he was 
one of the supporters of the chief mourner, Prince 
George of Denmark. He carried the orb at the 
coronation of James II. ; at the coronation of 
William and Mary, he bore the queen's crown. 

At the funeral of King William, he was again one 
of the supporters of the chief mourner. Prince 
George ; and at the coronations of Queen Anne, 
George I., and George II., he carried the orb.' 
Mr Jesse, in relating these circumstances a 
few years ago, makes the remark, that there 
might be individuals still living, who had con- 
versed with the Duke of Somerset, who had con- 
versed with Charles II.* 

Lord Campbell quotes, in his Lives of the 
Chief Justices, the statement of the Earl of 
Mansfield to Mr Murray of Henderland, about 
1787, that 'he had conversed with a man who was 
present at the execution of the Blessed Martyr.' 
Mr Murray, who died a very few years ago, 
accompanies his report of this statement witli 
the remark, ' How wonderful it seems that there 
should be only one person between me and him 
who saw Charles's head cut off !'t Perhaps 
this is scarcely so wonderful as that the mother 
of Sir Walter Scott, who survived 1820, had seen 
a person who had seen CromweU make his entry 
into Edinburgh in 1650; on which occasion, by the 
way, the individual in question remarked nothing 
in the victor of Dunbar but the extraordinary mag- 
nitude of his nose 1 It was also quite as singular 
that Charles James Fox, who might have lived 
to attend the levees of Queen Victoria without 
being much older than Lord Lyndhurst now is, 
had an uncle in office as joint paymaster of the 
forces in 1679 ! This last person was a son of 
Sir Stephen Fox by his first marriage. All Sir 
Stephen's first family having predeceased him, 
he wedded in his old age, in Queen Anne"s time, 
a healthy young woman, the daughter of a Lin- 
colnshire clergyman, and by her left two sons, 
one of whom was the father of Charles James. 

Dr Eouth, who died December 22, 1854, Pre- 
sident of Magdalen College, Oxford, in tlie 
hundredth year of his age, ' knew Dr Theophilus 
Leigh, Master of Baliol, the contemporary of 
Addison, who had pointed out to him the situa- 
tion of Addison's rooms : and he had been told 
by a lady of her aunt, who had seen Charles II. 
walking round the parks at Oxford (when the 
parliament was held there during the plague of 
London) with his dogs, and turning by the cross 
path to the other side when he saw^the heads of 
horses coming.' — Times, Dec. 25, 1854. 

One more such case may be noticed in refer- 
ence to the reign of Charles II. Dr John JNIac- 
keuzie, who had been Burns's medical attendant 
at Mauchline, and who died in Edinburgh in 
1841 at no very advanced age, had attended 

* It would appear tliat George IV. could not, with 
strict truth, sav tliat his father succeeded in the order of 
the Garter to Charles Duko of Somerset. He in reality 
succeeded to John first Earl of Poulett, who died 28lh 
May 1743. lUit, the Duke of Somerset dying 2nd 
December 1748, John Earl Granville was invested as his 
grace's successor on the same day with Prince George, 
along with four other knights. 

t A Mr Evans, who died October 9, 1780, at the age 
of 139, in the fuU possession of his faculties, 'could well 
remember the execution of Charles I., being seven years 
old at the time.'— Z)a47e)/'s Records ofjMxcjmhj. If this 
be a true statement, IMr Evans was probably the last 
person iu life who remembered the Blessed Martyr's 



profossionallv a ladv of vanlc who was bora cio-lit 
voars l.otoro" the death of ilu- IMevry iMoiiairli. 
Tliis was iho Counloss of Loudon, widow of the 
third KaH. She was born in 1077 and died in 
1777. having attained the venerable age of ;i 
hundred. t ■ ^ 

Elizabeth. Countess Powager of ITardwielce, 
who died :\Iay 20. 1858. was daughter of a person 
who had been a naval ollieer of Queen Anne and 
a rebel at the battle of Shcriilniuir, namely, 
James, fifth Earl of Balearres. This venerable 
lady eoidd have said that at her grandfather's 
first marriage King Charles gave away the bride; 
an event wliieh took place nearly a hundred and 
ninety years before her own death. 

This "marriage, by the way, was a remarkable 
one. The young Colin Earl of Balearres was 
obtaining for his bride, a young Dutch lady, 
Mauritia do Nassau, daughter of a natural son 
of ^Maurice Prince of Orange. ' The Prince of 
Orange, afterwards William III., presented his 
fair kinswoman on this joyful occasion with a, 
pair of magnificent emerald ear-rings, as his 
wcdding-^ift. The day arrived, the noble party 
were assembled in the church, and the bride was 
at the altar ; but, to the dismay of the company, 
no bridegroom appeared! The volatile Colin had 
forgotten the day of his marriage, and was dis- 
covered in his night-gown and slippers, quietly 
eating his breakfast ! Thus far the tale is told 
with a smile on the lip, but many a tear was 
shed at the conclusion. Colin hurried to the 
church, but in his haste left the ring in his 
writing-case ; — a friend in the company gave 
him one, — the ceremony went on, and, without 
looking at it, he placed it on the finger of his fair 
young bride : — it was a mourning ring, with the 
mort-head and cross-bones. On perceiving it at 
the close of the ceremony, she fainted away, and 
the evil omen had made such an impression on 
her mind, that, on recovering, she declared she 
shoiild die Avithin the year, and her presentiment 
was too truly fulfilled.' * 

When Mr and Mrs S. C. Dall in IS 10 made 
a tour in Ireland, in order to prepare the beauti- 
ful book regarding that country which they after- 
wards published, they were startled one day by 
finding themselves in the company of a gentleman 
of the county of Autrim.f who could tell them that 
his fivther had been at the battle of the Boyue, 
fought exactly a hundred and fifty years before. 
The latter wa's fifteen at the time of the battle. 
He lived a bachelor life till, on approaching old 
age, he overheard one day some young col- 
lateral relations talking rather too freely of 
what they would do with his property after his 
death ; whereupon, in disgust, he took an early 
opportunity of marrying, and became the father 
of the gentleman in question. It is even more 

* Lives of the LinJscij/n, ii. 120. Rings bearing a deatli's 
head were in great favour in tlie grim religious times then 
not long past. In a will dated 1G48, occurs this clause : 
' Also 1 (lo will and appoint ten rings of gold to be made 
of the value of twenty i^lJi^ings a-piece sterling, with a 
death's head upon some of them.' — UaUiwdVs Shakspenre, 
V. 318. 

+ Sir Edmund jracnaghten, of Eush !Mills ; lie was 
father of Sir William Macnagliten, political agent at 
Caubul. and who fell in the massacre at that place. 

remarkable that Maurice O'Connell of Derry- 
naue, who died in 1825 at the age of 99, knew 
j)aniel M'Carlhy, who had been at the battle of 
Auglirim (duly" 12, 1091), — who Avas indeed the 
first man to run away from it, — but who, being 
108 at his death in 1710, might have equally well 
remembered Cromwell's massacre at Drogheda in 
1(51.9. The gentleman Avho relates this fact in 
the Notes anil Queries*- says : ' I remember being 
told in the county of Clare, about 1828, of an 
individual then lately deceased, who remembered 
the siege of Limerick by General Ginkle, and 
tlui ne\vs of the celebrated Treaty of Limerick 
(October 3, 1091).' 

If we go back to any former period of British 
history, we shall find precisely similar linkings 
of remote ages by the lives of individuals. 
Lettice Countess of Leicester, who died in 
103 1, was born about 1539 ; consequently might 
have remembered Henry VIII., whose queen, 
Anne Boleyn. was her great aunt. To pursue 
the remarks of a contemiwrary writer, f ' during 
the rcigu of Edward VI.. the young Lettice 
was still a girl; but Sir Francis Knollys, her 
father, was about the court, and Lettice no 
doubt saw and was acquainted with the youth- 
ful sovereign. The succession of Mary threw 
the family of Lettice into the shade. As 
a relative of the Boleyns, and the child of a 
Puritan, she could expect no favour from the 
daughter of Catherine of Arragon ; but Mary 
and Philip were dovibtless personally known to 
her. At Elizabeth's succession, Lettice was in her 
eighteenth year, and in all the beauty of opening 
womanhood. About 1566, at the age of twenty- 
six, she was married to the young Walter 
Devereux, Viscount Hereford, created Earl of 
Essex in 1572. He died in 1570, and in 1578 his 
beautiful Countess was secretly married to Eobert 
Dudley, Earl of Leicester. The great favourite 
died in 1588, and within the year of her weeds 
Lettice was again married to an unthrifty knight 
of doubtful character. Sir Christopher Blount. 
In 1001, Lettice became a widow for the third 
time : her husband was a party to the treason- 
able madness of her son, and both suffered on 
the scaffold. Such accumulated troubles would 
have sufficed to kill an ordinary woman ; Init 
Lettice retired to Drayton Bassett, and lived on 
in spite of her sorrows. In James's time her 
connections were in favour. She came up to 
London to share the smiles of the new dynasty, 
and to contest for her position as Countess of 
Leicester against the base-born son of her prede- 
cessor in the l^^arl's aflections. At James's death 
she had attained the age of eighty-five, with 
faculties unimpaired. AVe may imagine that she 
was introduced to the new sovereign. The 
grandmother of the Earls of Holland and War- 
w'wk, and the relation of half the court, would 
naturally attract the attention and share the 
courtesies of the lively Henrietta and the grave, 
stately, formal Charles. He was the sixth 'Eng- 
lish sovereign ( or the seventh if Philip be 
counted) whom she had seen. The last few years 
of her life were passed at Drayton : 

* April 12, 1851. 

■\ Julin Bruce, Nulcs and Queries, 2nJ ser. iii. 13. 




' " Wlicre she spent her days so wtll, 
That to her the better sort 
Came as to an holy court, 
And the poor that lived near 
Doartli nor famine could not fear 
Whilst she lived." 

' Until a year or two of licr cleatli, we are told 
that she " could yet walk a mile of a morning." 
She died on Christmas Day iu lG3i, at the age 
of ninety-four. 

' Lattice was one of a long-lived race. Her 
father lived till 159G, and one of licr brothers 
attained the age of eiglity-six, and another that 
of ninety-nine. 

' There is nothing incredible, nor even very 
extraordinary, in tlie age attained by the Countess 
Lettice ; but even her years will produce curious 
results if applied to the subject of possible trans- 
mission of knowledge through few links. I will 
give one example : I)r Johnson, who was born iu 
1709, might have known a person who had seen 
the Countess Lettice. If there are not now, 
there were, amongst us, within the last three or 
four years, persons who knew Dr Johnson. 
There might therefore be only two links between 
ourselves and the Countess Lettice who saw 
Henry VIII.' 

Even these cases, remarkable as they are when 
viewed by themselves, sink into comparative 
unimportance before some others now to be 
adverted to. 

The first gives us a connection between the 
time of Cromwell and tliat of Queen Victoria 
by only two lives. William Horrocks, born in 
1657, one year before the death of the Protector, 
was married at the usual time of life, and had 
a family. His wife was employed as a nurse 
in the family of the Cliethams at Castleton Hall, 
near Rochdale. In 1711, when eighty-four years 
of age, he married for a second wife a Avoman of 
twenty-six, who, as his housekeeper, liad treated 
him with a remarkable degree of kindness. The 
circumstance attracted some share of public at- 
tention, and the Chetham family got portraits 
of the pair painted, to be retained iu their man- 
sion as a curiosity ; Avhich portraits were not long 
ago, and probably still are, in existence. To 
■VVilliam liorrocks in 1741 there was born a 
son, named James, who lived down to the year 
1841, on a small farm at Ilarwood, about three 
miles from Bolton. This remarkable centenarian, 
who could say that he had a brother born in the 
reign of Charles II., and that his father first 
drew breath as a citizen of the Commonwcaltli, 
is described as having been wonderfully well- 
preserved down almost to the last. vVt ninety, 
he had one day walked twenty-one miles, return- 
ing from Newton, where he had been recording 
his vote at an election.* 

The second case we have in store for tlie reader 
is a French one, and quite as remarkable as the 
preceding. It may first be stated in this form : 
a lady, who might be described as a niece of 
Mary Queen of Scots, died so lately as 1713. 
She was the widow of the Due d'Angouleme, a 
natural son of Charles IX., king of France, who 
* Sec a full account of Horrocks, quoted from the 
Mandiesler Guardian, in Notes and Queries, 2ud scr. iii. 

died in 1574, so that she survived her father-in- 
law a hundred and thirty-nine years.* At the 
time when she left the world, a sixth generation 
of tlie posterity of Maiy (Prince Frederick, 
father of George III. ) Avas a boy of five years. 

A third case may be thus stated : A man 
residing in Aberdeenshire, within the recollec- 
tion of people still living there, not only liad 
witnessed some of the transactions of the Civil 
War, but he had seen a man who was connected 
with the battle of Flodden, fought in September 
1513. The person in question was Peter Garden, 
who died at Aiichterless in 1775, aged 131. 
When a youth, he had accompanied his master 
to London, and there saw Henry Jenkins, who 
died in 1G70, at the extraordinary age of IGt). 
Jenkins, as a boy, had carried a horse-load of 
arrows to Northallerton, to be employed by the 
English army in resisting the invasion of James 
IV. of Scotland, and which were in reality soon 
after used at the battle of Flodden. Here two 
lives embraced events extending over two hun- 
dred and sixty-two years ! 


St Apollinaris, the apologist, bishop, 175 ; St Lucian, 
of Beauvais, martyr, 290 ; St Natlialau, bisliop, confessor, 
452 ; St Severinus, abbot, 482 ; St Gudula, virgin, 712 ; 
St Pega, virgin, about 719 ; St Yulsiu, bishop, confessor, 


is regarded with, veneration by Roman Catholics 
as tiic patroness saint of the city of Brussels. 
She was of noble birth, her mother having been 
niece to the eldest of the Pepins, who was Maire 
of the Palace to Dagobert I. Her father was 
Count Witger. She was educated at Nivelle, 
under the care of her cousin Ste Gertrude, after 
whose death iu 664, she returned to her father's 
castle, and dedicated her life to the service of 
religion. She spent her future years in prayer 
and abstinence. Her revenues were expended 
on the poor. It is related of her, that going 
early one morning to tlie church of St Morgelle, 
two miles from "her father's mansion, witli a 
female servant bearing a lantern, the wax taper 
havingbcen accidentally extinguished, she lighted 
it again by the efficacy of her prayers. Hence 
she is usually represented in pictures with a 
lantern. Slie died January 8th, 712, and was 
buried at Ham, near Villcvord. Her relics were 
transferred to Brussels in 978, and deposited in 
tlie churcli of St Gery, but in 1047 were removed 
to the collegiate church of Michael, since named 
after her the cathedral of Ste Gudula. This 
ancient Gothic structure, commenced in 1010, 
still continues to be one of the architectural orna- 
ments of the city of Brussels. Her Life w;is 
written by Hubert of Brabant not long after 
the removal of her relics to the church of St 

* Francis II., the elder brother of Charles IX., was 
first husband of Mary of Scotland ; conseipicntly this 
uiil'ortuuate princess was by marriage aunt of tho Duchess 





X),V(/._Galilco Galilei, 1642 ; John Earl of Stair, 1707; 
Sir Thomas Burnet, 1753; John 15askerville, printer, 
1773; Sir William Draper, 17S7; Lieutenant Tliomas 
Waghorn, 1850. 


Such (tliouf^li little known) was tlie real full 
name of the famous Italian in-ofessor, wlio first 
frametl and used a telescope for tlie observation 
of the heaveulv bodies, and who may be said to 
have first i^ivcii stability and force to the theory 
which places the sun iii the centre of the planet- 
ary system. In April or May 1609, Galileo heard 
at A^-'nice of a little tubular instrument lately 
made by one Hans Lippershey of Middleburg, 
which made distant objects appear nearer, and 
he immediately applied himself to experiment- 
in;^ on the means by which such an instrument 
could be produced. Procuring a couple of spec- 
tacle glasses, each plain on one side, but one 
convex and the second concave on the other side, 
he put these at the diflferent ends of a tube, and 
applying his eye to the concave glass, found that 
objects were magnified three times, and brought 
apparently nearer. Soon afterwards, having made 
one whicii could magnify thirty times, Galileo 
commenced observations on the surface of the 
moon, which he discovered to be irregular, like 
that of the earth, and on Jupiter, which, in 
January 1610, he ascertained to be attended 
by four stars, as he called them, which after- 
i wards proved to be its satellites. To us, who 
calmly live in the knowledge of so much that the 
telescope has given us, it is inconceivable with 
what wonder and excitement the first discoveries 
of the rude tube of Galileo were received. The 
first eflects to himself were such as left him 
nothing to desire ; for, by the liberality of his 
patron, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, he was en- 
dowed with a high salary, independent of all his 
former professional duties. 

The world has been made well aware of the 
opposition which Galileo experienced froni the 
ecclesiastical authorities of his age ; but it is re- 
markable that the first resistance he met with 
came from men who were philosophers like him- 
self. As he went on with his brilliant discove- 
ries — the crescent form of Venus, the spots on 
the sun, the peculiar form of Saturn — he was 
met with a storm of angry opposition from the 
adherents of the old Aristotelian views ; one of 
whom, Martin Horky, said he would ' never 
grant that Italian his new stars, though he 
should die for it.' The objections made by these 
persons were clearly and triumphantly refuted 
by Galileo : he appealed to their own senses for 
a sufficient refutation of their arguments. It 
was all in. vain. The fact is ec[ually certain and 
important that, while he gained the admiration 
of many men of high rank, he was an object of 
hostility to a vast number of his own order. 

It was not, after all, by anything like a general 
movement of the Church authorities that Galileo 
was brought to trouble for his doctrines. The 
Church had overlooked the innovations of Coper- 
nicus : many of its dignitaries were among the 
friends of Galileo. Perhaps, by a little discreet 
management, he might have escaped censure. 
He was, however, of an ardent disposition ; and 

being assailed by a preacher in the pulpit, he 
was tempted to bring out a pam]5hlet defending 
his views, and in reality adding to the offence he 
liad already given. He was consequently brought 
before the Inquisition at Eome, February 1615, 
and obliged to disavow all his doctrines, and 
solemnlyengage never again to teach them. 

From this time, Galileo became manifestly 
less active in research, as if the humiliation had 
withered his faculties. Many years after, reco- 
vering some degree of confidence, he ventured 
to publish an account of his System of the World, 
under the form of a dialogue, in which it was sim- 
ply discussed by three persons in conversation. 
He had thought thus to escape active opposition ; 
but he was mistaken. He had again to appear 
before the Inquisition, April 1633, to answer for 
the offence of publishing what all educated men 
now know to be true ; and a condemnation of 
course followed. Clothed in sackcloth, the vener- 
able sage fell upon his knees before the assembled 
cardinals, and, with his hands on the Bible, ab- 
jured the heresies he had taught regarding the 
earth's motion, and promised to repeat the seven 
penitential psalms weekly for the rest of his life. 
He was then conveyed to the prisons of the In- 
quisition, but not to be detained. The Church 
was satisfied with having brought the philoso- 
pher to a condemnation of his own opinions, and 
allowed him his liberty after only four days. 
The remaining years of the great astronomer 
were spent in comparative peace and obscurity. 

That the discoverer of truths so certain and so 
important should have been forced to abjure 
them to save his life, has ever since been a theme 
of lamentation for the friends of truth. It is 
held as a blot on the Romish Church that she 
persecuted 'the starry Galileo.' But the great 
difficulty as to all new and startling doctrines is 
to say whether they are entitled to respect. It 
certainly was not wonderful that the cardinals 
did not at once recognise the truth contained in 
the heliocentric tlicory, when so mauy so-called 
philosophers failed to recognise it. And it may 
be asked if, to this day, the promulgator of any 
new and startling doctrine is well treated, so 
long as it remains unsanctioned by general ap- 
probation, more especially if it appears in any 
degree or manner inconsistent with some point 
of religious doctrine. It is strongly to be sus- 
pected that many a man has spoken and written 
feelingly of the persecutors of Galileo, who daily 
acts in the same spirit towards other reformers of 
opinions, with perhaps less previous inquiry to 
justify him in what he is doing. 


The Earl of Stair above cited was eldest son 
of James Dalrymple, Viscount Stair, the Presi- 
dent of the Court of Session in Scotland, and 
the greatest lawyer whom that country has pro- 
duced. This first earl, as Sir John Dalrymple, 
was one of three persons of importance chosen 
to offer the crown of Scotland to William and 
Mary at the licvolution. As Secretary of State 
for Scotland, he was the prime instrument in 
causing the Massacre of Glencoe, which covered 
his name with infamy, and did not leave that of 
his royal master untarnished. He was greatly 




instrumental in brinpjing about tlie union of 
Scotland with. England, though he did not live 
to see it effected. His son, the second earl, as 
ambassador to France in the time of the regency 
of Orleans, was of immense service in defeating 
the intrigues of the Stuarts, and preserving the 
crown for the Hanover dynasty. 

The remarkable talents and vigour of three 
generations of one family on the Wliig side, not 
to speak of sundry offshoots of tlie tree in emi- 
nent official situations, rendered the Dalrymples 
a vexation of no small magnitude to the Tory 
party in Scotland. It appears to have been with 
reference to them, that tlie Nine of Diamonds 
got the name of the Curse of Scotland; this 
card bearing a resemblance to the nine lozenges, 
or, arranged saltire-wise on their armorial coat.* 

— -_ y. Various other reasons 

^^1 ,j^ f^ have, indeed, been sug- 
gested for this expres- 
sion — as that, the game 
of Comete being intro- 
duced by Mary of Lor- 
raine (alternatively by 
James, Duke of York) 
into the court at Holy- 
rood, the Nine of Dia- 
monds, being the win- 
ning card, got this 
name in consequence of the number of courtiers 
ruined by it ; that in the game of Pope Joan, 
the Nine of Diamonds is the Pope — a personage 
whom the Scotch Presbyterians considered as a 
curse : that diamonds imply royalty, and every 
ninth king of Scotland was a ci;rse to his country: 
all of them most lame and unsatisfactory sug- 
gestions, in comparison with the simple and 
obvious idea of a witty reference to a set of 
detested but powerful statesmen, through the 
medium of their coat of arms. Another suppo- 
sition, that the Duke of Cumberland wrote his 
inhuman orders at CuUoden on the back of the 
Nine of Diamonds, is negatived by the fact, that 
a caricature of the earlier date of October 21, 
1745, represents the young chevalier attempting 
to lead a herd of bulls, laden with papal curses, 
excommunications, &c., across the Tweed, with 
the Nine of Diamonds lying before them. 


This name will be permanently remembered in 
connection with the great improvements which 
have been made of late years in the postal com- 
munications between the distant parts of the 
British Empire and the home country. Waghoru 
was a man of extraordinary energy and resolu- 
tion, as well as intelligence ; and it is sad to think 
that his life was cut short at about fifty, before 
he had reaped the rewards due to his public 

In the old days of four-montb passages round 
Cape Horn, a quick route for the Indian mail 
was generally felt as in the highest degree desir- 
able. It came to be more so when the Australian 
colonies began to rise into importance. A pas- 

* In the arms of the Earl of Stair, this bearing stands 
first and fourth, for Dalrymple. The bearings in the 
second and third quarters are derived from marriages. 

sage by the Euphrates, and the 120 miles of 
desert between that river and the Mediterranean, 
Avas favourably thought of, was experimented 
upon, but soon abandoned. Wagliorn then took 
up the plan of a passage by Egypt and the Red 
Sea. which, after many dililculties, was at length 
realized in 1838. Such was his energy at this 
time, that, in one of his early journe3's, when 
charged with important dispatches, coming one 
winter's day to Suez, and being disappointed 
of the steamer which, was to carry liim to Bom- 
bay, lie embarked in an open boat to sail along 
the six hundred miles of the Eed Sea, without 
chart or compass, and in six days accomplished 
the feat. A magnificent steam fleet was in time 
established on this route by the Peninsidar and 
Oriental Steam Navigation Company, and has, 
we need scarcely say, proved of infinite service 
in facilitating personal as well as postal commu- 
nications with the East. 


There are several newspapers in Europe which 
have lived two hundred years or more — papers 
that have appeared regularly, with few or no 
interruptions, amid wars, tumults, plagues, fa- 
mines, commercial troubles, fires, disasters of 
innumerable kinds, national and private. It is a 
grand thing to be able to point to a complete 
series of such a newspaper ; for in it is to be 
found a record, however humble and imperfect, 
of the history of the world for that long period. 
The proprietors may well make a holiday-festival 
of the day when such a bi-centenary is completed. 
A festival of this kind was held at Haarlem on 
the 8th of Januarj', 1856, when the Haarlem 
Courant completed its 200th year of publication. 
The first number had appeared on the 8th of 
January, 1656, under the title of De Weelcelycl-e 
Courant van Eiiropa ; and a fac-simile of this 
ancient number was produced, at some expense 
and trouble, for exhibition on the day of the 
festival. Lord Macaulay, when in Holland, made 
much use of the earlier numbers of this newspaper, 
for the purposes of his History. The first number 
contained simply two small folio pages of news. 

The Continent is rather rich in old newspapers 
of this kind. 'On the 1st of January, I860, the 
Gazette of Rostoclc celebrated its 150th anniver- 
sary, and the Gazette of Leipsic its 200th. The 
proprietors of the latter paper distributed to their 
subscribers, on this occasion, fac-similes of two 
old numbers, of Jan. 1, 1660, and Jan. 1, 1760, 
representing the old typogi-aphical appearance as 
nearly as they could. It has lately been said 
that Russian newspapers go back to the year 
1703, when one was established which Peter the 
Great helped both to edit and to correct in proof. 
Some of the proof sheets are still extant, with 
Peter's own corrections in the margin. The 
Imperial Library at St Petersburg is said to 
contain the only two known copies of the first 
year complete. The UoUandsche Mercuriits was 
issuedmore than two centuries ago, a small quarto 
exactly in size like our Notes and Queries; we 
can there see how the news of our civil war was 
from time to time received among the people of 
Holland, who were generally well affected to the 
royalist cause. At the assumption of power b}' 


Croinw-oU in 1053. the paper hoisted a •n-ood-cut 
title reprosentinj;: various English matters, in- 
eluding Orouiweil seated in council ; and this, as 
ail historical curiosity, we have caused to be 
hero reproduced. In the original, there is a copy 

of verses hy some Dutch poet, describing the 
subjects of the various designs on this carved 
page. lie tells xis that the doors of Westminster 
■were opened to Oliver ; that both the council and 
the camp bowed to him ; and that London, frantic 


with joy, solicited his good services in connection 
with peace and commerce. The Jlollandsche 
Mcrcurius was, after all, a sort of Dutch ' An- 
nual Ecgistcr,' rather than a newspaper : there 
are many sucli in various countries, much more 

than 200 years old. Old newspapers have boon 
met with, printed at Niirnberg in 1571, at Dil- 
lingen in 1509, at Ivatisbon in 1528, and at Vienna 
even so early as 1524. There may be others 
earlier than this, for aught that is at presentknown. 




Modem investigators of this subject, liowevcr, 
have found it previously necessary to apjree upon 
an answer to the question, ' Wiiat is a newspaper?' 
Many small sheets were issued in old days, 
each containini^ an account of some one event, 
but havinf^ neither a preceding nor a following 
number under the same title. If it be agreed that 
the word 'newspaper' shall be applied only to a 
publication which has the following characteristics 
— a treatment of news from various parts of the 
world, a common title for every issue, a series of 
numbers a])plied to them all, a date to each 
number, and a regular period between the issues 
— tJien multitudes of old publications which have 
hitJierto been called newspapers must be expelled 
from tJie list. It matters not what we call them, 
provided there be a general agreement as to the 
scope of the word used. 

A very unkind blow was administered to our 
national vanity somewhat moi*e than twenty 
years ago. We fancied we possessed in our 
great National Library at the British Museum, 
a real printed English newspaper, two centuries 
and a half old. Among the Sloane MSS. is a 
volume containing what purport to be three 
numbers of the Engluih Mercurie, a newspaper 
published in 1588 : they profess to be Nos. 50, 
51, and 51 of a series : and they give numerous 
particulars of the Spanish Armada, a subject of 
absorbing interest in those days. Each number 
consists of four pages somewhat shorter and 
broader than that which the reader now holds 
in his hand. Where they had remained for 
two centuries nobody knew ; but they began 
to be talked about at the close of the last 
century — first in Chalmers' Life of Ituddiman, 
then in the Gentleman s Magazine, then in 
Nichols' Literary Anecdotes, then in D'Israeli's 
Curiosities of Literature, then in the English 
edition of JjccTcmann, then in various English 
and Foreign Cyclopasdias, and then, of course, in 
cheap popular periodicals. So the public faith 
remained firm that the English Mercurie was 
the earliest English newspaper. The fair edifice 
was, however, thrown down in 1839. Mr Thomas 
Watts, the able Assistant Librarian at the 
British Museum, on subjecting the sheets to 
a critical examination, found abundant evidence 
that the theory of their antiquity was not ten- 
able. Manuscript copies of three numbers are 
bound up in the same volume ; and from a 
scrutiny of the paper, the ink, the handwriting, 
the type (which he recognised as belonging to 
the Caslon foundry), the literary style, the spell- 
ing, the blunders in fact and in date, and the 
corrections, Mr AVatts came to a conclusion 
that tlic so-called English Mercurie was printed 
in the latter half of the last century. The 
evidence in support of this opinion was col- 
lected in a letter addressed to Mr Panizzi, after- 
wards printed for private circulation. Eleven 
years later, in 1850, Mr Watts furnished to the 
C-ienilenuui s Magazine the reasons which led him 
to think that the fraud liad been perpetrated by 
Philip Yorke, second Earl of Hardwicke : in 
other words, that the Earl, for some purpose not 
now easy to surmise, had written certain para- 
graphs in a seemingly Elizabethan style, and 
caused them to be printed as if belonging to a 

newspaper of 1588. Be this as it may, concern- 
ing the identity of the Avriter, all who 'now 
look at the written and printed sheets agree that 
they are not what they ]n'ofess to be ; and thus 
a pretty bit of national complacency is set aside ; 
for we have become ashamed of our English 

Mr Knight Hunt, in his Fourth Estate, gives 
us credit, however, for a printed newspaper con- 
siderably more than two centuries old. lie says : 
' There is now no reason to doubt that the puny 
ancestor of the myriads of broad sheets of our 
time was published in 1G22 ; and that the most 
prominent of the ingenious speculators who 
oflered the novelty to the world was Nathaniel 
Butter. His companions in the work appear to 
have been Nicholas Bourne, Thomas Archer, 
Nathaniel Newberry, William Sheppard, Bar- 
tholomew Donncr, and Edward Allde. All these 
different names appear in the imprint of the 
early numbers of the first newspaper, the Weekly 
Neics. What appears to be the earliest sheet 
bears the date 23d of May 1622." Al^out 1663, 
there was a newspaper called Kingdonis Lntel- 
ligencer, more general and useful than any of 
its predecessors. Sir Eoger L'Estrange was 
connected with it ; but the publication ceased 
when the London Gazette (first called the Oxford 
Gazette) was commenced in 1665. A few years 
before this, during the stormy times of the 
Commonwealth, newspapers were amazingly nu- 
merous in England ; the chief writers in them 
being Sir John Birkenhead and ]\Iarchmo:it Need- 

If it were any part of our purpose here to 
mention the names of newspapers which have 
existed for a longer period than one century and 
a half, we should have to make out a pretty 
large list. Claims have been put forward in this 
respect for the Lincoln, Eutland, and Stamford 
Mercury, the Scotch Postman, the Scotch Mer- 
cury, the Duhlin News-Letter, the Dublin Gazette, 
Pue's Occurrences, Faulkner's Journal, and many 
others, some still existing, others extinct. The 
Edinburgh Evening Courant has, we believe, 
never ceased to appear thrice a week (latterly 
daily) since the 15th of December 1718; and its 
rival, the Caledonian Mercury, is but by two 
years less venerable. Saunders's News-Letter has 
had a vitality in Dublin of one hundred and 
eighteen years, during eighty of which it has 
been a daily paper. 

In connection with these old newspapers, it is 
curious to observe the original meaning of the 
terms Gazette and News-Letter. During the war 
between the Venetians and the Turks in 1563, the 
Venetian Government, being desirous of communi- 
cating news on public allairs to the people, caused 
sheets of military and commercial intelligence to 
be written : these sheets were read out pviblicly at 
certain places, and the fee paid for hearing tliem 
was a small coin called a gazzetta. By degrees, 
the name of the coin was transferred to the writ- 
ten sheet ; and an official or government news- 
paper became known as a Gazzetta or Gazetta. 
For some time afterwards, the Venetian Govern- 
ment continued the practice, sending several 
written copies to several towns, where they were 
read to those who chose to listen to them. This 




rude systoiii. however, was not calculated to be 
of lonlj duratiou : the printing-press speedily 
superseded sueli written sheets. The name, 
however, survives; the ollieial newspapers of 
several European countries being called Ga- 

Concerning ycirs-Lci/crs, they were the pre- 
cursors of newspapers generally. They were 
really letters, written on sheets of writing-paper. 
Long after the invention of printing, readers were 
too few ill number to pay for the issue of a regu- 
lar periodically-printed newspaper. IIow, then, 
could the wealthy obtain informationof what was 
going on in the world ? By written newspapers 
or news-letters, for Avhich they paid a high price. 
There were two classes of news-writers in those 
days— such as wrote privately to some particular 
person or family, and such as wrote as many 
copies as they could dispose of. Whitaker, in his 
Histo)')/ of Craven, says that the Cliflbrd family 
prcserves'a record or memorandum to the follow- 
ing eflect : ' To Captain llobiuson, by my Lord's 
commands, for writing letters of newes to his 
Lordship for half a year, five pounds.' In or 
about the year 1711, the town-council of Glasgow 
kept a news-writer for a weekly 'letter.' A 
collection of such letters was afterwards found in 
Glammis Castle. During the time of Ben Jonson, 
and down to a later period, there were many 
news-writers living in London, some of them 
unemployed military men, who sought about in 
every quarter for news. Some would visit the 
vicinity of the Court, some the Exchange, some 
Westminster Hall, some (old) St Paul's — the 
nave of which was, in those days, a famous resort 
for gossips. All that they could pick up was 
carried to certain offices, where they or other 
writers digested the news, and made it sufficient 
to fill a sheet of certain size. The number of 
copies of this sheet depended on the number of 
subscribers, most of whom were wealthy families 
residing in the country. Ben Jonson frequently 
satirizes these news-writers, on account of the 
unscrupulous way in which the news was often 
collected. Even in the days of Queen Anne, 
when mails and posts were more numerous, and 
when the printing-press had superseded the 
written news-letter, the caterers for the public 
were often suspected of manufacturing the news 
which they gave. Steele, in No. 42 of the 
Tatler, represents a news-writer as excusing him- 
self and his craft in the following way : ' Hard 
shifts we intelligencers are forced to. Our readers 
ought to excuse us, if a westerly wind, blowing 
for a fortnight together, generally fills every 
paper with an order of battle ; when we shew 
our mental skill in every line, and according to 
the space we have to fill, range our men in squad- 
rons and battalions, or draw out company by 
company, and troop by troop : ever observing 
that no muster is to be made but when the wind 
is in a cross-point, which often happens at the 
end of a campaign, when half the men are de- 
serted or killed. The Courant is sometimes ten 
deep, his ranks close ; the Postboy is generally in 
files, for greater exactness ; and the Postman 
comes down upon you rather after the Turkish 
way, sword in hand, pell-meU, without form or 
discipline; but sure to bring men enough into 

the field ; and wherever they are raised, never to 
lose a battle for want of numbers.' 


This jihrase, involving the use of an English 
word in a sense quite diflcrent from the proper 
one, appears to be a mystery to English lexico- 
graphers. Todd, indeed, in his additions to 
Johnson, points to shrap, Swedish, and quotes 
from Lye, ' Draga en in i scraeper — to draw any 
one into difficulties.' But it may be asked, what 
is the derivation of the Swedish phrase ? It is 
as likely that the Swedes have adopted our 
phrase as that we have adopted theirs. It may 
be suspected that the phrase is one of those 
which are puzzling in consequence of their hav- 
ing originated in special local circumstances, or 
from some remarkable occurrence. 

There is a game called golf, almost peculiar to 
Scotland, though also frequently played upon 
Blackheath, involving the use of a small, hard, 
elastic ball, which is driven from point to point 
with a variety of wooden and iron clubs. In the 
north, it is played for the most part upon downs 
(or linlcs) near the sea, where there is usually 
abundance of rabbits. One of the troubles of 
the golf-player is the little hole which the rabbit 
makes in the sward, in its first elTorts at a bur- 
row ; this is commonly called a rabbit's scrape, 
or simply a scrape. When the ball gets into a 
scrape, it can scarcely be played. The rules of 
most golfing fraternities, accordingly, include one 
indicating what is allowable to the player when 
he gets into a scrape. Here, and here alone, as 
far as is known to the writer, has the phrase a 
direct and intelligible meaning. It seems, there- 
fore, allowable to surmise that this phrase has 
originated amongst the golfing societies of the 
north, and in time si^read to the rest of the 


SS. Julian and Basilissa, martyrs, 313. St Peter of 
Sebaste, bisliop and confessor, about 387. St Marchiana, 
virgin and martyr, about 305. St Vaneng, confessor, 
about 088. St Fillan, abbot, 7tli century. St Adrian, 
abbot at Canterbury, 710. St liritliwald, archbishop of 
Canterbury, 731. 


is famous among the Scottish saints, from his 
piety and good works. He spent a considerable 
part of his' holy life at a monastery which he built 
in Pittenweem, of which some remains of: the later 
buildings yet exist in a habitable condition. It 
is stated that, while engaged here in transcribing 
the Scriptures, his left hand sent forth sufficient 
light to enable him. at night, to continue his work 
without a lamp. For the sake of seclusion, he 
finally retired to a wild and lonely vale, called 
from him Strathfillan, in Perthshire, where he 
died, and where his name is still attached to the 
ruins of a chapel, to a pool, and a bed of rock. 

'At Strathfillan, there is a deep pool, called 
the Holy Pool, where, in olden times, they were 
wont to dip insane people. The ceremony was 
performed after sunset on the first day of the 




quarter, O.S., and before sunrise next morning. 
The dipped persons were instructed to take three 
stones from the bottom of the pool, and, walking 
three times round each of three cairns on the 
bank, throw a stone into each. They were next 
conveyed to the ruins of St Eillan's chapel ; and 
in a corner called St Fillan's bed, they were laid 
on their back, and left tied all night. If next 
morning they were found loose, the cure was 
deemed perfect, and thanks returned to the saint. 
The pool is still (1843) visited, not by parishioners, 
for they have no faith in its virtue, but by people 
from other and distant places.' — New Statistical 
Account of Scotland, parish of Killin, 1843. 

Strange as it may appear, the ancient bell of 
the chapel, believed to have been St Fillan's bell, 
of a very antique form, continued till the begin- 
ning of the nineteenth century to lie loose on a 
grave-stone in the churchyard, ready to be used, 
as it occasionally Avas, in the ceremonial for the 
cure of lunatics. The popular belief was, that it 
was needless to attempt to appropriate and carry 
it away, as it was sure, by some mysterious means, 
to return. A curious and covetous English tra- 
veller at length put the belief to the test, and the 
bell has been no more heard of. The head of 
St Fillan's crosier, called the Quigrich, of silver 
gilt, elegantly carved, and with a jewel in front, 
remained at Killin, in the possession of a peasant's 
family, by the representative of which it was 
conveyed some years ago to Canada, where it 
still exists. The story is that this family obtained 
possession of the Quigrich from King llobert 
JBruce, after the battle of Bannockburn, on his 
becoming offended with the abbot of Inchafiray, 
its previous keeper ; and there is certainly a 
document proving its having been in their posses- 
sion in the year 1487. 


A relic of St Fillan figures in Ilector Bocce's 
account of tlio battle just alluded to. 'King 
Kobert,' says he, 'took little rest the night before 
the battle, having great care in his mind for the 
surety of his army, one while revolving in his 

consideration this chance, and another while that : 
yea, and sometimes he fell to devout contempla- 
tion, making his prayer to God and St Fillan, 
whose arm, as it was set and enclosed in a silver 
case, he supposed had been the same time within 
his tent, trusting the better fortune to follow by 
the presence thereof. As he was thus making 
his prayers, the case suddenly opened and clapped 
to again. The king's chaplain being present, 
astonished therewith, went to the altar where the 
case stood, and finding the arm within it, he cried 
to the king and others that were present, how 
there was a great miracle wrought, confessing 
that he brought the empty case to the field, and 
left the arm at home, lest that relic should have 
been lost in the field, if anything chanced to the 
army otherwise than well. The king, very joyful 
of this miracle, passed the remnant of the night 
in prayer and thanksgiving.' 

Born. — John Earl St Vincent (Admiral Jeivis), 1734. 

Lied. — Bernard de Fontenelle, philosopher, 1757; 
Thomas Birch, biographical and historical writer, 1766 ; 
Elizabeth 0. Benger, historian, 1822 ; Caroline Lucretia 
Herschel, astronomer, 1848. 


In the history of this great naval commander, 
we have a remarkable iustanceof early difficulties 
overcome by native hardihood and determination. 
The son of a solicitor who was treasurer to Green- 
wich Hospital, he received a good education, and 
was designed for the law ; but this was not to 
be his course. To pursue an interesting recital 
given by himself — ' My father's favourite plan 
was frustrated by his own coachman, whose con- 
fidence I gained, always sitting by his side on the 
coach-box when we drove out. He often asked what 
profession I intended to choose. I told him I was 
to be a lawyer, " Oh, don't be a lawyer. Master 
Jackey," said the old man ; " all lawyers are 
rogues." About this time young Strachan (father 
of the late Admiral Sir Kichard Strachan, and a 
son of Dr Strachan, who lived at Greenwich) 
came to the same school, and we became great 
friends. He told me such stories of the happiness 
of a sea life, into which he had lately been ini- 
tiated, that he easily persuaded me to quit the 
school and go with him. We set out accordingly, 
and concealed ourselves on board of a ship at 
Woolwich.' After three days' absence, young 
Jervis returned home, and persisted in not return- 
ing to school. ' This threw my mother into much 
perplexity, and, in the absence of her husband, 
she made known her grief, in a flood of tears, 
to Lady Archibald Hamilton, mother of the late 
Sir William Hamilton, and wife of the Governor 
of Greenwich Hospital. Her ladyship said she 
did not see the matter in the same light as my 
mother did, that she thought the sea a very 
honourable and a very good profession, and said 
she would xiudertake to procure me a situation 
in some ship-of-war. In the meantime my mother 
sent for her brother, Mr John Parker, who, on 
being made acquainted with my determination, 
expostulated with me, but to no purpose. I was 
resolved I would not be a lawyer, and that I 
would be a sailor. Shortly afterwards Lad}'' 





Archibalil IlainiUou iutroJiu'Oil mo to Lady 
Burlini^ton. niul slio to ConmiodorP Townsliend, 
who was at tliat timo .ijoiiii; out in the Gloiiccsfcr, 
as Commandor-in-Ohiot'. to .Tamaioa. She reques- 
ted that he Avould lalce me on his quarter-deck, 
to whieh the eonunodore readily consented ; and 
T was forthwitli to be prepared for a sea life. 
.My eipiipnuMit was what would now be called 
rather grotesque. ^ly coat was made for me to 
grow up to ; it reached down to my heels, aiul 
was full hirge in the sleeves ; I had a dirk, and 
a gold-laced hat ; and in this costume my uncle 
caused me to be introduced to my patroness, 
Lady Burlington. Here I acquitted myself but 
badly. I lagged behind my nncle, and ht-ld by 
the skirt of his coat, llor ladyship, liowever, 
insisted on my coming forward, shook hands with 
me. and told mc I had chosen a very lionourable 
profession. She then gave Mr Parker a note 
to Commodore George 'J'ownshend, who lived in 
one of the small houses in Charles Street, Berkeley 
Square, desiring that we should call there early the 
next morning. This we did; and after waiting some 
time, the commodore made his appearance in his 
night-cap and slippers, and in a very rough and 
uncouth voice asked me how soon I would be 
ready to join my ship ? I replied, " Directly." 
" Then you may go to-morrow morning," said he, 
" and I will give you a letter to the first lieu- 
tenant." ]\ly uncle, ~Mr Parker, however, replied 
that I could not be ready quite so soon, and we 
quitted the commodore. In a few days after 
this we set off, and my uncle took me to Mr 
Blanchard, the master-attendant or the boatswain 
of the dockyard — I forget which — and by him I 
was taken on board the hulk or receiving-ship 
the next morning, the Gloucester being in dock 
at the time. This was in the year 1748. As 
soon as the ship was ready for sea we proceeded 
to Jamaica, and as I was always fond of an active 
life, I voluntered to go into small vessels, and 
saw a good deal of what was going on. My father 
had a very large family, with limited means. He 
gave me twenty pounds at starting, and that was 
all he ever gave me. After I had been a consider- 
able time at the station, I drew for twenty more, 
but the bill came back protested. I was mortified 
at this rebuke, and made a promise, which I have 
ever kept, that I would never draw another bill, 
without a certainty of its being paid. I imme- 
diately changed my mode of living, quitted 
my mess, lived alone, and took up the ship's 
allowance, which I found to be quite sufficient ; 
washed and mended my own clothes, made a 
pair of trousers out of the ticking of my bed, 
and, having by these means saved as much money 
as would redeem my honour, I took up my bill ; 
and from that time to this ' (he said this with 
great energy) ' I have taken care to keep within 
iny means.' 


Fontcnelle stands out amongst writers for hav- 
ing reached the extraordinary age of a liun(ire<l 
years. He was probably to a great extent indebtc<l 
for tlmt length of daj^s to a calmness of nature 
which forbade the macliine to be subjected to 
any rough handling. It was believed of him 
that he had never either truly laughed or truly 

cried in the whole course of his existence. His 
leading characteristic is convoj'cd in somebody's 
excellent mot on hearing him say that lie flattered 
himself he had a good heart: 'Yes, my dear 
Fontcnelle, as good a heart as can be made out 
of brains.' Better still in an anecdote which has 
got into currency: ' One day, a certain hou-vlvant 
abbe came unexpectedly to dine with him. The 
abbe was fond of asparagus dressed with butter ; 
for which Fontcnelle also had a great goilt, but 
preferred it dressed with oil. Fontcnelle said 
for such a friend there was no sacrifice he would 
not make : the abbe should have half the dish of 
asjiaragus he had ordered for himself, and, more- 
over, it should be dressed with butter. While 
they were conversing thus together, the poor 
abbe fell down in a fit of apoplexy ; upon which 
his friend Fontcnelle instantly scampered down 
stairs, and eagerly called ovit to his cook : " The 
whole with oil ! the whole with oil, as at first ! " ' 

Fontcnelle was born at Eouen, 11th February, 
1(357, and was, by his mother's side, nephew of 
the great Corneille. He was bred to the law, 
which he gave np for poetry, history, and philo- 
sophy. His poetical pieces have, however, fallen 
into neglect and oblivion. The Dialoffues des 
Morts, published in 1683, first laid the founda- 
tion of his literary fame. He was the first indi- 
vidual who wrote a treatise expressly on the Plu- 
rality of Worlds. It was published in 1686, the 
year before the publication of Newton's PHhc/^j^'w, 
and is entitled Conversations on the Plurality of 
Worlds. It consists of five chapters, with the 
following titles : 1. The Earth is a planet which 
turns round its own axis and also round the 
sun. 2. The Moon is a habitable world. 3. Par- 
ticulars concerning the world in the Moon, and 
that the other planets are inhabited. 4. Particu- 
lars of the worlds of Venus, Mercury, Mars, 
Jupiter, and Satiirn. 5. The Fixed Stars are so 
many suns, each of which illuminates a world. 
In another edition of the work published in 1719, 
Fontcnelle added a sixth chapter, entitled, 6. New 
thoughts which confirm those in the preceding 
conversations — the latest discoveries which have 
been made in the heavens. This singular work, 
written by a man of great genius, and with a 
sufficient knowledge of astronomy, excited a 
high dogree of interest, both from the nature 
of the subject, and the vivacity and humour with 
which it is treated. The conversations are car- 
ried on with the Marchioness of G , with 

whom the author is supposed to be residing. 
The lady is distinguished by youth, beauty, and 
talent, and the share which she takes in the dia- 
logue is not less interesting than the more scien- 
tific part assumed by the philosopher. 

The Tliiralitij of Worlds (says Sir David 
Brewster) was read with unexampled avidity 
through every part of Europe. It was trans- 
lated into all the languages of the Continent, 
and was honoured by annotations from the pen 
of the celebrated astronomer Lalande ; and of 
]\I. Gottsched, one of its German editors. No 
fewer than three English translations of it were 
pul)lished ; and one of these, we believe the first, 
had run through six editions so early as the year 

We have given this outline of Fouteuelle's 




celebrated work in consequence of the g^''^^^*' 
attention wlucli its subject, tlie Plurality of 
Worlds, has of late excited in scientific circles. 
One of the leading controversialists has been 
the author of an Essay on the 'Plurality of 
Worlds, wlio urges the theological, not less than 
the scientific, reasons for believing in the old tra- 
dition of a single world : ' I do not pretend,' says 
this writer, ' to disprove the plurality of worlds ; 
but I ask in vain for any argument which makes 
the doctrine probable.' . . . ' It is too remote 
from knowledge to be either proved or disproved.' 
Sir David Brewster has replied in More Worlds 
than One, emphatically maintaining that ana- 
logy strongly countenances the idea of all the 
solar planets, if not all worlds in the universe, 
being peopled with creatvires, not dissimilar in 
being and nature to that of the inhabitants of the 


was one of those women who occasionally come 
forth before the world, as in protest against the 
commonly accept- 
ed ideas of men 
regarding the men- 
tal capacity of the 
gentler sex. Of all 
scientific studies 
one would suppose 
that of mathema- 
tics to be the most 
repulsive to the 
female mind ; yet 
what instances 
there are of the 
contrary ! Jeanne 
Dumee, the widow 
who sought solace 
for her desolate 
state in the study 
of the Copernican 
theory ; Marie 
Caunitz, who as- 
sisted her husband 
in making up his 
Mathematical Ta- 
bles ; the Marquise 
de Chatelet, the 
friend of Voltaire, 
Maupertius, and 
BernouiUi, who 
published in 1740 
her Institution de 
Physique, an ex- 
position of the 
Ehilosophy of 

icibnitz, and who 
likewise translated 
the Princijna of 
Newton ; Nicole 
de Lahiere, who 
helped her hus- 
band Lefante with a Treatise on the Lengths of 
Pendulums ; the Italian Agnosi, who wrote and do- 
bated on all learned subjects, a perfect Admirable 
Crichton in petticoats, and whose mathematical 
treatises yet command admiration : finally, an- 

other fair Italian, Maria Catarina Bassi, who 
was equally conversant with classical and mathe- 
matical studies, and actually attained the honours 
of a professor's chair in the university of Bologna. 
Such examples are certainly enough to prove that, 
whatever may be the ordinary or average power.s 
and tendencies of the female mind, there is 
nothing in its organization absolutely to forbid 
an occasional competency for the highest subjects 
of thought. 

Isaac Herschel and his wife Use little thought, 
when he was plying his vocation as a musician at 
Hanover, what a world-wide reputation was in 
store for their family. He taught them all 
music— four sons and a daughter. The second 
son, William, came to England to seek his for- 
tune in 1758 ; and when, after many difficulties, 
he became organist at Bath, his sister Caroline 
came over to live with him. In time, turning 
his attention to telescopes and astronomy, and 
gaining the favour of George III., he became the 
greatest practical astronomer of his age. For 
more than forty years did the brother pursue his 
investigations at Slough, near Windsor, Caroline 

assisting him. It 
is stated thatwhen 
he became for ten 
or twelve hours 
at a time absorbed 
in study, Miss 
Herschel some- 
times found it ne- 
cessary to put food 
into his mouth, 
as otherwise he 
would have ne- 
glected even that 
simplest of na- 
ture's needs. The 
support of the 
pair was assured 
by a pension from 
the king, who did 
himself honour by 
conferring on Wil- 
liam Herschel the 
honour of knight- 

In 1798 Caroline 
Herschel publish- 
ed a Catalogue of 
Stars, at the ex- 
pense of the Eoyal 
Society, which has 
ever since been 
highly valued by 
practical astrono- 
mers. After a no- 
ble career, Sir 
William died in 
1822; andhis sister 
thenwent to spend 
the rest of her 
days at Hanover. 
She afterwards prepared a Catalogue of Nebula: 
and Star-Clusters, observed by her brother. 

It was an event worth remembering, when, on 
the 8th of February 1828, the Astronomical 
Society's gold medal was awarded to Caroline 






Hcrschel. Her nopliow John, now tlie eminent 
Sir J. F. W. Ilorsi-licl, was President of the 
Society, and shrank from seeming to bestow 
houonr on his own family ; bnt the Council 
worthily took the matter in hand. Sir James 
South, in an addi-ess on the occasion, after ad- 
verting to the labours of Sir William Herschel, 
said: 'Who participated in his toils? Who 
braved with him the inclemency of the weather ? 
AVho shared his privations ? A female ! Who 
was she? His sister. Miss Herschel it was 
who, by night, acted as his amanuensis. She 
it was whose pen conveyed to paper his ob- 
servations as they issued from his lips ; she it 
was who noted the right ascensions and polar 
distances of the objects obseiwed ; she it was 
who, having passed the night near the instru- 
ments, took the rough manuscripts to her cottage 
at the dawn of da}', and produced a fine copy of 
the night's work ou the subsequent moi'ning ; she 
it was who planned the labour of each succeed- 
ing night ; she it was who reduced every obser- 
vation and made every calculation ; she it was who 
arranged everything in systematic order ; and she 
it was who helped him to obtain an imperishable 
name. But her claims to our gratitude end not 
here. As an original observer, she demands, and 
I am sure has, our most unfeigned thanks. 
Occasionally, her immediate attention during 
the observations could be dispensed with. Did 
she pass the night in repose ? No such thing. 
Wherever her illvistrious brother was, there you 
were sure to find her also.' As one remarkable 
fact in her career, she discovered seven comets, 
by means of a telescope which her brother made 
expressly for her use. 

It was not until the extraordinary age of 
Jiinetij-seven that this admirable woman closed 
her career. Her intellect was clear to the last ; 
and princes and philosophers alike strove to do 
her honour. The foregoing portrait — in which, 
notwithstanding age and decay, we see the linea- 
ments of intellect and force of character, — is from 
a sketch in the possession of Sir John Herschel. 

S^otttljiiig for i\z %hi\, 

On this day in the year 1683, King Charles II. 
in council at Whitehall, issued orders for the 
future regulation of the ceremony of Touching for 
the King's Evil. It was stated that 'his Majesty, 
in no less measure than his royal predecessors, 
having had good success therein, and in his 
most gracious and pious disposition being as 
ready as any king or queen of this realm ever 
was, in any thing to relieve the necessities and 
distresses of his good subjects,' it had become 
necessary to appoint fit times for the ' Publick 
Healings ;' which therefore were fixed to be from 
AU-Hallow-tide till a week before Christmas, and 
after Christmas until the first week of March, 
and then cease tiU Passion week ; the winter 
being to be preferred for the avoidance of conta- 
gion. Each person was to come with a recom- 
mendation from the minister or churchwardens 
of his parish, and these individuals were enjoined 
to examine carefully into the cases before granting 
such certificates, and in particular to make sure 

that the applicant had not been touched for the 
evil before.* 

Scrofula, which is the scientific name of the 
disease popularly called the Kincfs evil, has been 
described as ' indolent glandular tumours, fre- 
quently in the neck, suppurating slowly and 
imperfectly, and healing with difficulty.' (Grood's 
Sludy of Medicine.) This is the kind of disease 
most likely to be acted upon by the mind in a 
state of excitement. The tumours maybe stimu- 
lated, and the suppuration c[uickened and in- 
creased, which is the ordinary process of cure. 
Whether the result be produced through the 
agency of the nerves, or by an additional flow of 
blood to the part affected, or by both, has not 
perhaps been clearly ascertained : but that cures 
in such cases are effected by some such natural 
means, is generally admitted by medical prac- 
titioners ; and it is quite credible that, out of the 
hundreds of persons said to have been cured of 
king's evil by the royal touch, many have been 
restored to health by the mind under excitement 
operating on the body. In all such cases, however, 
the probability of cure may be considered as in 
proportion to the degree of credulity in the person 
operated iipon, and as likely to be greatest where 
the feeling of reverence or veneration for the 
operator is strongest. As society becomes in- 
structed in the causes and nature of diseases, 
and the methods of cure established by medical 
experience, the belief in amulets, charms, and 
the royal touch passes away from the human 
mind, together with aU the other superstitions 
which were so abundant in ages of ignorance, 
and of which only a few remains still linger 
among the most uninstructed classes of society. 

The practice of touching for the king's evil had 
its origin in England from Edward the Confessor, 
according to the testimony of William of Malmes- 
bury, who lived about one hundred years after 
that monarch. Mr Giles's translation of this 
portion of the Chronicle of the Kings of England 
is as follows : ' But now to speak of his miracles. 
A young woman had married a husband of her 
own age, but having no issue by the union, the 
humours collecting abundantly about her neck, 
she had contracted a sore disorder, the glands 
swelling in a dreadful manner. Admonished in 
a dream to have the part affected washed by the 
king, she entered the palace, and the king himself 
fulfilled this labour of love by rubbing the 
woman's neck with his hands dipped in water. 
Joyous health followed his heahng hand ; the 
lurid skin opened, so that worms flowed out with 
the purulent matter, and the tumour subsided; but 
as the orifice of the ulcer was large and unsightly, 
he commanded her to be supported at the royal 
expense till she should be perfectly cured. How- 
ever, before a week was expired, a fair new skin 
returned, and hid the ulcers so completely that 
nothing of the original wound could be discovered. 
. . . . Those who knew him more intimately 
affirm that he often cured this complaint in Nor- 
mandy ; whence appears how false is their notion 
who in our times assert that the cure of this 
disease does not proceed from personal sanctity, 
but from hereditary virtue in the royal line.' 
Shakspeare describes the practice of the holy 
* Broadside printed by John Bill, 1683. 




king in his tragedy of Macbeth, ' the gracious 
Duncan ' having been contemporary with Edward 
the Confessor : 

' Macduff. — What 'a the disease he means ? 
Malcolm. — 'Tis called the evil ; 

A most miraculous work in this good king ; 
Which often, since my here-remain in England, 
I've seen him do. How he sohcits heaven 
Himself best knows ; but strangely- visited people, 
All swoln and ulcerous, jjitiful to the eye. 
The mere despair of surgery, he cures ; 
Hanging a golden stam]) aVjout their necks. 
Put on with holy prayers : and 'tis spoken, 
To the succeeding royalty he leaves 
The heahng benediction. With this strange virtue 
He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy ; 
And simdry blessings hang about his throne. 
That speak him full of grace.' 

Holinshed's Clironicleis Shakspeare's authority, 
but by referring to the passage it will be seen 
that the poet has mixed up in his description the 
practice of his own times. Eeferring to Edward 
the Confessor, Holinshed writes as follows : — 
' As it has been thought, he was inspired with 
the gift of prophecy, and also to have the gift of 
healing infirmities and diseases. He used to 
help those that were vexed with the disease 
commonly called the king's evil, and left that 
virtue, as it were, a portion of inheritance to his 
successors, the kings of this realm.' 

Laurentius, first physician to Heury IV. of 
France, in his work DeMirahili Strumas Sanando, 
Paris, 1609, derives the practice of touching for 
the king's evil from Clovis, a.d. 481, and says 
that Louis I., a.d. 814, also performed the cere- 
mony with success. Philip de Commines says 
(Danett's transL, ed. 1614, p. 203), speaking of 
Louis XL when he was ill at Forges, near Chinon, 
in 1480 : ' He had not much to say, for he was 
shriven not long before, because the kings of 
Fraunce use alwaies to confesse themselves when 
they touch those that be sick of the king's evill, 
which he never failed to do once a weeke.' 

There is no mention of the first four English 
kings of the Norman race having ever attempted 
to cure the king's evil by touching ; but that 
Henry II. performed cures is attested by Peter 
of Blois, who was his chaplain. John of Gad- 
desden, who was physician to Edward II., 
and flourished about 1320 as a distinguished 
writer on medicine, treats of scrofula, and, after 
describing the methods of treatment, recom- 
mends, in the event of failure, that the patient 
should repair to the court in order to be touched 
by the king. Bradwardine, Archbishop of Can- 
terburjs who lived in the reigns of Edward III. 
and Hichard II., testifies as to the antiquity of 
the practice, and its continuance in the time when 
he lived. Sir John Fortescue, Lord Chief Justice 
of the Court of King's Bench in the time of 
Henry IV., and afterwards Chancellor to Henry 
VI., in his Defence of the Title of the House of 
Lancaster, written just after Henry IV. 's acces- 
sion to the crown, and now among the Cotton 
manuscripts in the British Museum, represents 
the practice as having belonged to the kings of 
England from time immemorial. Henry VII. 
was the first English sovereign who established a 
particular ceremony to be used on the occasion 

of touching, and introduced the practice of pre- 
senting a small piece of gold. 

We have little trace of the custom under 
the eighth Harry ; but Cavendish, relating 
what took place at the court of Francis I. of 
France, when Cardinal Wolsey was there on 
an embassy in 1527, has the following passage : 
' And at his [the king's] coming into the bishop's 
palace [at Amiens], where he intended to dine 
with the Lord Cardinal, there sat within a 
cloister about 200 persons diseased with the 
king's evil, upon their knees. And the king, or 
ever he went to dinner, provised every of them 
with rubbing and blessing them with his bare 
hands, being bareheaded all the while ; after 
whom followed his almoner, distributing of money 
unto the diseased. And that done, he said cer- 
tain prayers over them, and then washed his 
hands, and came up into his chamber to dinner, 
where my lord dined with him.' — Life of Wolsey, 
ed. 1825, i. 124. 

In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, William 
Tookes published a book on the subject of the 
cures effected by the royal touch — Charisma ; 
sive Donum Sanationis. He is a witness as to 
facts which occurred in his own time. He states 
that many persons from all parts of England, of 
all ranks and degrees, were, to his own know- 
ledge, cured by the touch of the Queen; that he 
conversed with many of them both before and 
after their departure from the court ; observed 
an incredible ardour and confidence in them that 
the touch would cure them, and understood that 
they actually were cured. Some of them he met 
a considerable time afterwards, and upon inquiry' 
found that they had been perfectly free from the 
disease from the time of their being touched, 
mentioning the names and places of abode of 
several of the persons cured. William Clowes, 
surgeon to Queen Elizabeth, denominates scro- 
fula ' the King's or the Queen's Evil, a disease 
repugnant to nature ; which grievous malady 
is known to be miraculously cured and healed by 
the sacred hands of the Queen's most royal ma- 
jesty, even by Divine inspiration and wonderful 
work and power of God, above man's will, art, 
and expectation.' 

In the State Paper Office there are preserved 
no less than eleven proclamations issued in the 
reign of Charles I. respecting the touching for 
the king's evil. They relate mostly to the periods 
when the people might repair to the court to have 
the ceremony performed. In the troubled times of 
Charles's reign he had not always gold to bestow ; 
for which reason, observes Mr AViseraan, he sub- 
stituted silver, and often touched without giving 

Mr Wiseman, who was principal surgeon to 
Charles II. after the Eestoration, says : ' I my- 
self have been a frequent eye-witness of many 
hundreds of cures performed by his Majesty's 
touch alone, without any assistance from chirur- 
gery.' The number of cases seems to have in- 
creased greatly after the llestoration, as many as 
600 at a time having been touched, the days 
appointed for it being sometimes thrice a week. 
The operation was often performed at Whitehall 
on Sundays. Indeed, the practice was at its 
height in the reign of Charles II. In the first 




four years after liis restoration lie touclicd nearly 
21. IXH1 persons. Tein's, in his Di(xn/, under the 
date June 23. ItitW, says : ' To my lord's lodgings, 
where Tom Guv came to me. and then staid to .sec 
the kin-- touch" for the king's evd. But ho did 
not come at all. it rained so ; and tlie poor people 
were forced to stand all the morumg in the ram 
in the >-arden. Afterwards he touched them in 
tlie Banquet ting House.' And again, under the 
date o( Ain-il 10, lt^.i51, Pepys says : ' Met my 
lord the duke, and, after a little talk with him, 
I went to the Banquet House, and there saw the 
kino- heal. — the first time that ever I saw him 
do i't.— which he did with great gravity ; and it 
seemed to mc to be an ugly office aud a simple 

one.' 1,1 

One of Charles II. 's proclamations, dated 
January 0. 10S3. has been given above. Evelyn, 
in his 'Dian/, March 28. KkSl, says : ' There Avas 
so great a concourse of people with their children 
to be touched for the evil, that six or seven were 
crushed to death by pressing at the chirurgeon's 
door for tickets.' The London Gazette, October?, 
l(iS6. contains an advertisement stating that his 
IMajesty would heal weekly on Fridays, and com- 
manding the attendance of the king's physicians 
and surgeons at the Mews, on Thursdays in 
the afternoon, to examine cases and deliver 

GemeUi, the traveller, states that Louis XI V. 
touched 1600 persons on Easter Sunday, 16S6. 
The words he used were : ' Le Eoy te touche, 
Dieu te guerisse ' ( ' The King touches thee ; 
mav God "cure thee'). Every Frenchman re- 
ceived fifteen sous, aud every foreigner thirty. 
— Barrington's Observations on ike Statutes, 
p. 107. 

But Charles II. and Louis XIV. had for a few 
years a rival in the gift of curing the king's evil 
by touching. Mr Greatrakes, an Irish gentle- 
man of the county of Waterford, began, about 
1662, to have a strange persuasion in his mind 
that the faculty of curing the king's evil was 
bestowed upon him, and upon trial found his 
touching succeed. He next ventured upon agues, 
and in time attempted other diseases. In January 
1666. the Earl of Orrery invited him to England 
to attempt the cure of Lady Conway of a head- 
ache ; he did not succeed ; but during his resi- 
dence of three or four weeks at Kagley, Lord 
Conway's seat in Warwickshire, cured, as he 
states, many persons, while others received bene- 
fit. From Eagley he removed to Worcester, 
where his success was so great that he was in- 
vited to London, where he resided many months 
in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and performed many 
cures. — A brief Account of Mr Valentine Grcat- 
rakes, and divers of the strange cures by him 
poformed ; written by himself in a Letter ad- 
dressed to the Hon. RoJiert Boyle, Esq., ivhereunto 
are annexed the testimonials of several eminent and 
worthy persons of the chief matters of fact there 
related. London, 1666. 

The ceremony of touching was continued by 
James II. In the Diary of Bishop Cartwright, 
published by the Camden Society, at the date of 
August 27, 1687, we read : ' I was at his Ma- 
jesty's levee ; from whence, at nine o'clock, I 
attended him into the closet, where he healed 


350 persons.' James touched for the evil while 
at the French court. Voltaire alludes to it in 
his Sicclc de Louis XLV. William III. never 
performed the ceremony. 

Queen Anne seems to have been the last of 
the English sovereigns who actually performed 
the ceremony of touching. Dr Dicken, her Ma- 
jesty's sergeant-surgeon, examined all the persons 
who were brought to her, and bore witness to the 
certainty of some of the cures. Dr Johnson, in 
Lent. 1712, was amongst the persons touched by 
the Queen. 

For this purpose he was taken to London, by 
the advice of the celebrated Sir John Floyer, 
then a physician in Lichfield. Being asked if he 
remembered Queen Anne, Johnson said he had 
' a confused, but somehow a sort of solemn recol- 
lection of a lady in diamonds, aud a long black 
hood.' Johnson was but thirty months old when 
he was touched. 

Carte, the historian, appears to have beeu not 
ouly a believer in the efficacy of the royal touch, 
but in its transmission in the hereditary royal 
line ; and to prove that the virtue of the touch 
was not owing to the consecrated oil used at the 
coronation, as some thought, he relates an instance 
wdthin his own knowledge of a person who had 
been cured by the Pretender. {History of Eng- 
land, vol. i. p. 357, note.) 'A young man named 
Lovel, who resided at Bristol, was afflicted with 
scrofulous tumours on his neck aud breast, and 
having received no benefit from the remedies 
applied, resolved to go to the Continent and be 
touched. He reached Paris at the end of August 
1716, and went thence to the place where he was 
touched by the lineal descendant of a race of 
kings who had not at that time been anointed. 
He touched the man, and invested him with a 
narrow riband, to which a small piece of silver 
was pendant, according to the office appointed 
by the Church for that solemnity. The humours 
dispersed insensibly, the sores healed iip, and he 
recovered strength daily till he arrived in perfect 
health at Bristol at the beginning of January 
following. There I saw him without any remains 
of his complaint.' It did not occur to the 
learned historian that these facts might all be 
true, as probably they were, and yet might form 
no proof that an unanointed but hereditarily 
rightful king had cured the evil. The note had 
a sad effect for him, in causing much patron- 
age to be withdrawn from his book. 

A form of prayer to be used at the ceremony of 
touching for the king's evil was originally printed 
on a separate sheet, but was introduced into the 
Book of Common Praj^er as early as 1684. It 
appears in the editions of 1707 and 1709. It was 
altered in the folio edition printed at Oxford in 
1715 by Baskett. 

Previous to the time of Charles II., no parti- 
cular coin appears to have been executed for the 
purpose of being given at the touching. In the 
reign of Queen Elizabeth, the small gold coin 
called an angel seems to have been used. The 
touch-pieces of Charles II. are not uncommon, 
and specimens belonging to his reign and of the 
reigns of James II. and of Queen Anne may be 
seen in the British Museum. They have figures 
of St Michael and the dragon on one side, and a 




sliip on the other. A piece in the British Museum 
has on one side a hand descending from a cloud 



towards four heads, with * He touched them ' 
round the margin, and on the other side a rose 
and thistle, with ' And they were healed.' 

We hare engraved a gold touch-piece of Charles 
II., obverse and reverse; and the identical touch- 
piece, obverse and reverse, given by Queen Anne 
to Dr Johnson, preserved in the British Museum. 

THE 'DAVY' and the ' GEORDY.' 

On this day, in the year 1816, Davy's safety 
lamp, for the first time, shed its beams in the 
dark recesses of a coal-pit. The Eev. John 
Hodgson, rector of Jarrow, near Newcastle,- — a 
man of high accomplishment, subsequently known 
for his laborious History of Northumberland, — 
had on the previous day received from Sir 
Humphry Davy, two of the lamps which have ever 
since been known by the name of the great phi- 
losopher. Davy, although he felt well-grounded 
reliance in the scientific correctness of his new 
lamp, had never descended a coal-pit to make 
the trial : and Hodgson now determined to do 
this for him. Coal mines are wont to give forth 
streams of gas, which, when mixed in certain 
proportions with atmospheric air, ignite by con- 
tact with an open flame, producing explosion, and 
scattering death and destruction ai-ound. Till 
this time, miners were in the habit, when work- 
ing in foul air, of lighting themselves by a steel 
mill — a disk of steel kept revolving in contact 
with a piece of flint : such an arrangement being 
safe, though certainly calculated to afford very 
little light. Davy found the means, by enclosing 
the flame in a kind of lantern of wire-gauze, of 
giving out light without inviting explosion. 
Armed with one of these lamps, Mr Hodgson 
descended Hebburn pit, walked about in a ter- 
rible atmosphere o^ fire-dam}), or explosive gas, 
held his lamp high and low, and saw it become 
fuU of blazing gas without producing any explo- 
sion. He approached gradually a miner working 

by the spark light of a steel mill ; a man who had 
not the slightest knowledge that such a wonder as 
the new lamp was in existence. No notice had 
been given to the man of what was about to take 
place. He was alone in an atmosphere of great 
danger, ' in the midst of life or death,' when he 
saw a light approaching, apparently a candle 
burning openly, the effect of which he knew 
would be instant destruction to him and its 
bearer. His command was instantly, 'Put out 
the light!' The light came nearer and nearer. 
No regard was paid to his cries, w'hich then 
became wild, mingled with imprecations against 
the comrade (for such he took Hodgson to 
be) who was tempting death in so rash and 
certain a way. Still, not one word was said in 
reply ; the light continued to approach, and then 
oaths were turned into prayers that his request 
might be granted ; until there stood before him, 
silently exulting in his success, a grave and 
thoughtful man, a man whom he well knew and 
respected, holding up in his sight, with a gentle 
smile, the triumph of science, the future safe- 
guard of the pitmen.* The clergyman after- 
wards acknowledged that he had done wrong 
in subjecting this poor fellow to so terrible a 

Great and frequent as had been the calamities 
arising from fire-damp, it was not tdl after 
an unusually destructive explosion in 1812, 
that any concentrated eff"ort was made to obtain 
from science the means of neutralising it. In 
August 1815, Sir Humphry Davy was ti^a- 
velliug through Northumberland. In conse- 
quence of his notable discoveries in chemistry, 
Dr Gray, rector of Bishopwearmouth. begged 
him to make a short sojourn in Newcastle, 
and see whether he could suggest anj'thing to 
cure the creat danger of the mines. Mr Hodgson 
and Mr Buddie, the latter an eminent coUiery 
engineer, explained all the facts to Davy, and set 
his acute mind thinking. He came to London, 
and made a series of experiments. He found that 
flame will not pass through minute tubes ; he 
considered that a sheet of wire-gauze may be 
regarded as a series of little tubes placed side by 
side ; and he formed a plan for encircling the 
flame of a lamp with a cylinder of such gauze. 
Inflammable air can get through the meshes to 
reach the flame, but it cannot emerge again in the 
form of flame, to ignite the rest of the air in the 
mine. He sent to Mr Hodgson for a bottle of fire- 
damp : and with this he justified the results to 
which his reasoning had led him. At length, at 
the end of October, Davj^ wrote to Hodgson, 
telling all that he had done and reasoned upon, 
and that he intended to have a rough 'safety 
lamp ' made. This letter was made public at a 
meeting in Newcastle on the 3d of November ; 
and soon afterwards Davy read to the Eoyal 
Society, and published in the Philoso-phical Trans- 
actions, those researclies in flames which have 
contributed so much to his reputation. There 
can be no question that his invention of the 
safety lamp was due to his love of science and his 
wish to do good. He made the best lamp he 
could, and sent it to Mr Hodgson, and read with 
intense interest that gentleman's account of the 
* Raine's Life of the Eev. John Hodgson. 





eventful experiences of tlic 9tH of Januaiy. It is 
pleasant, to know that tliat identical lamp is pre- 
served in the Museum of Practical Geology in 
Jerniyn Street. Mr Buddie advised Sir Humphry 
to take out a patent for his invention, which ho 
was certain would realise £'5000 to £10,000 a year. 
But Paw would have none of this ; he did not 
want to be paid for saving miners' lives. ' It 
might,' he replied, 'undoubtedly enable me to 
]iut four horses to my carriage ; but what could it 
avail me to have it said that Sir Humphry drives 
his carriage and four? ' 

AVhile the illustrious philosopher was thus 
eflecting his philanthropic design by a strictly 
scientitic course, a person then of little note, but 
afterwards the equal of Davy in fame, — George 
Stephenson, engine-wright at Killingworth Col- 
liery, near Newcastle, — was taxing his extra- 
ordinary genius to effect a similar object by 
means more strictly mechanical. In August 
1815, he devised a safety lamp, which was tried 
with success on the subsequent 21st of October. 
Accompanied by his son Eobert, then a boy, and 
Mr Nicholas Wood, a superintendent at KiUing- 
worth, Stephenson that evening descended into the 
mine. ' Advancing alone, with his yet untried 
lamp, in the depths of those underground work- 
ings — calmly venturing his own life in the deter- 
mination to discover a mode by which the lives 
of many might be saved and death disarmed 
in these fatal caverns — he presented an example 
of intrepid nerve and manly courage, more noble 
even than that which, in the excitement of battle 
and the impetuosity of a charge, carries a man 
up to the cannon's mouth. Advancing to the 
place of danger, and entering within the foviled 
air, his lighted lamp in hand, Stephenson held it 
lirmlj^ out, in the full current of the blower, and 
within a few inches of its mouth. Thus exposed, 
the flame of the lamp at first increased, and then 
flickered and went out ; but there was no explo- 
sion of gas. . . . Such was the result of the tirst 
experiment with the first practical miner's safety 
lamp ; and such the daring resolution of its inven- 
tor in testing its valuable qualities !'* 

Stephenson's first idea was that, if he could 
establish a current within his lamp, by a chimney 
at its top, the gas would not take fire at the top 
of the chimney ; he was gradually led to connect 
with this idea, an arrangement by a number of 
small tubes for admitting the air below, and a 
third lamp, so constructed — being a very near 
approach to Davy's plan — was tried in the Kil- 
lingworth pit on the 30th of November, where to 
this day lamps constructed on that principle — 
and named the ' Geordy' — are in regular use. 

No one can noiv doubt that both Davy and 
Stephenson really invented the safety lamp, quite 
independently of each other: both adopted the 
same principle, but applied it difierently. To 
this day some of the miners prefer the ' Geordy ; ' 
others give their vote for the ' Davy ; ' while 
others again approve of lamps of later construc- 
tion, the result of a combination of improvements. 
In those days, however, the case was very differ- 
ent. A fierce lamp-war raged throughout 1816 and 
1817. The friends of each party accused the other 
of stealing fame. Davy having the advantage 
* Smiles's Life of George Stephenson. 

of an established reputation, nearly aU the men 
of science sided with him. They affected superb 
disdain for the new claimant, George Stephen- 
son, whose name they had never before heard. 
Dr Paris, in his Life of Davy, says : ' It wUl here- 
after be scarcely believed that an invention so 
eminently philosophic, and which could never 
have been derived but from the sterling treasury 
of science, should have been claimed on behalf 
of an engine-wright of KUlingworth, of the name 
of Stephenson — a person not even professing a 
knowledge of the elements of chemistry.' There 
were others, ckiefly men of the district, who de- 
feuded the rights of the ingenious engine-wright, 
whose modesty, however, prevented him from 
ever taking up an offensive position towards liis 
illustrious rival. 


January 9, 1800, Mr Abernethy, the eccentric 
surgeon, was married to Miss Ann Threlfall. ' One 
circumstance on the occasion was very character- 
istic of him ; namely, his not allowing it to inter- 
rupt, even for a day, his course of lectures at the 
hospital. Many years after this, I met him 
coming into the hospital one day, a little before 
two (the hour of lecture), and seeing him rather 
smartly dressed, with a white waistcoat, I said, 
"You are very gay to-day, sir?" "Ay," said he; 
" one of the girls was married this morning." 
" Indeed, sir," I said. " You should have given 
yourself a holiday on such an occasion, and not 
come down to the lecture." "Nay," returned 
he ; " egad ! I came down to lecture the day I 
was married myself!" On another occasion, I 
recollect his being sent for to a case just before 
lecture. The case was close in the neighbour- 
hood, and it being a question of time, he hesitated 
a little ; but being pressed to go, he started off". 
He had, however, hardly passed the gates of the 
hospital before the clock struck two, when, all at 

once, he said: "No, I'll be if I do! " and 

returned to the lecture-room.' — Macilvain's Me- 
moirs of Abernethy, 


St Marcian, priest, fifth century. St Agatho, pope, 
682. St Williata, archbishop of Bourges, confessor, 1209. 

St William was deemed a model of monastic 
perfection. ' The universal mortification of his 
senses and passions laid in him the foundation of 
an admirable purity of heart and an extraordinary 
gift of prayer ; in which he received great 
heavenly lights and tasted of the sweets which 
God has reserved for those to whom he is pleased 
to communicate himself. The sweetness and 
cheerfulness of his countenance testified the un- 
interrupted joy and peace that overflowed his 
soul, and made a virtue appear with the most 
engaging charms in the midst of austerities. . . . 
He always wore a hair shirt under his religious 
habit, and never added, nor diminished, anything 
in his clothes either winter or summer.' — Butler. 

Born. — Dr George Birkbeck, 1776. 

Bied. — Archbishop Laud (beheaded), 1645; Edward 
Cave, 1754; Admiral Boscawen, 1761 ; Linnxus, natu- 
ralist, 1778; Mary Kussell Mitford, authoress, 1855, 





lu inquiring into the origin of that movement 
for popular instruction which has occupied so 
broad a space during this century, we are met 
by the name of George Birkbeck standing out in 
conspicuous characters. The son of a banker at 
Settle, in Yorkshire, and reared as a medical 
practitioner, he was induced at an early period 
of life to accept a professorship in what was 
called the Andersonian Institution of Glasgow, 
— a kind of popular university which had just 
then started into being, under circumstances 
which will be elsewhere adverted to. Here 
Birkbeck found great difficulty in getting appa- 
ratus made for a course of lectures on Natural 
and Experimental Philosophy ; and this suggested 
to him the establish- 
ment of popular lec- 
tures to working men, 
with a view to the 
spread of knowledge 
in various matters re- 
lating to the applica- 
tion of science to the 
practical arts. This 
was the germ from 
which Mechanics' In- 
stitutions afterwards 
sprang. The trustees 
of the Andersonian 
Institution had not 
Birkbeck's enthusi- 
asm ; they deemed 
the scheme visionary, 
and refused at fu'st to 
support it. In the 
autumn of 1800 he 
went to Yorkshire 
for a vacation, and 
there digested a plan 
for forming a class 
' solely for persons 
engaged in the prac- 
tical exercise of the 
mechanical arts, men 
whose education in 
early life had pre- 
cluded even the pos- 
sibility of acquiring 
the smallest portion of 
scientific knowledge.' 
This mechanics' class was to be held in one of 
the rooms of the Andersonian Institution. On 
his return to Glasgow he opened communications 
with the chief owners of manufacturing estab- 
lishments, offering to the more intelligent woi'k- 
men free admission to his class. The first lecture 
was attended by 75 artisans ; it excited so much 
interest that 200 came to the second lecture, 
300 to the third, and 500 to the fourth. His 
grateful pupils presented him with a silver cup 
at the close of the course, as a token of their 
appreciation of his disinterested kindness. He 
repeated these labours year after year till 1801, 
when he resigned his position at Glasgow to Dr 
TJre, who, like him, was at that time struggling 
into fame. Birkbeck married, came to London, 
and settled down as a physician. 


Many years elapsed, during which Dr Birk- 
beck was wholly absorbed in his professional 
duties. He did not, however, forget his early 
schemes ; and, as he advanced in life, he found 
or made opportunities for developing them. In 
1820 he gave a gratuitous course of seventeen 
lectures at the London Institution. Gradually a 
wish spread in various quarters to put in operation 
the plan which had so long occupied the thoughts 
of Birkbeck — viz., to give instructions in science 
to working men. In 1821 a School of Arts was 
established at Edinburgh, chiefly through the 
instrumentality of Mr Leonard Horner. In 1823 
a Mechanics' Institution was founded at Glasgow, 
and another in London, of which last Dr Birk- 
beck was very appropriately elected President, an 
office he filled till his death eighteen years after- 
wards. A controversy 
has recently arisen on 
the question whether 
Mr Jiobertson, the 
first editor of the 
Mechanics'' Magazine, 
is not entitled to the 
honour of being the 
first proposer of Me- 
chanics' Institutions ; 
let it suffice for our 
purpose to associate 
the three names of 
Brougham, Birkbeck, 
and llobertson in this 
useful labour, and 
leave to others the 
due apportionment of 


The name of Laud 
\ does not savour agree- 
ably in the minds of 
Englishmen ; yet it 
will be generally ad- 
mitted that he was 
unjustly and vindic- 
tively treated. The 
career of the man 
from a humble ori- 
gin to the primate's 
throne, which he at- 
tained in 1G33, need 
not be detailed. Led 
by a love of the old ceremonies of the church — 
though, as he always alleged, with no affection 
for Rome— he became the principal minister of 
Charles I., in those imhappy movements for 
introducing episcopacy in Scotland and checking 
Puritanism in England, which, in combination 
with arbitrary political rule, brought on the 
Great Civil War. 

He was called to the council of Charles I., 
according to his own statement, against his will ; 
yet he devised and executed many unwarrantable 
revenue schemes : he, doubtless, believed in the 
divine right of kings, and being opposed, an 
unhappy infirmity of temper induced him to 
concur in many cruel and arbitrary schemes, to 
crush opposition, and render his master indepen- 
dent of parliaments. These expedients succeeded 





for a while, but. at lonstli failinix. the king was 
conipeUoa to call his last parliaiuont, JNov. 3, 
10 IJ); and earlv next yoixv the Arehbishop was 
impeac-hed of treasou by the Comnious. iiud sent 
to the Tower, where ho remained exposed to 
luanv hardships until his death. In 1613, he 
was'aeeiised of designs of overtlirowmg parlia- 
ments, and bringing about union with Ivonie. 
Prynne. the barrister, who was Laud's personal 
oneniy. eoUected evidence against him, seized 
his private papers, and even his prayer-book, 
and took his Diary by force out of his pocket. 
Prvnue tampered with the evidence to suit the 
views of his party, but the proofs were so weak 
tliat the Peers were disinclined to convict him. 
He has left a full and, on the whole, faithful 
account of his trial, in which he defended himself 
with courage and ability. The Commons then 
changed the impeachment to an ordinance for 
Laud's execution, to which the Lords assented ; 
he had procured a pardon from the king, which 
was disregarded, and Laud was brought to the 
block on Tower-hill, mainly, it is alleged, to 
gratify the extreme Presbyterians of Scotland, 
and induce them to go heartily on vrith the war, 
this party having been inspired with bitter feelings 
regarding the unhappy primate, whom they con- 
sidered as the main author of the calamities they 
had been for several years enduring. The last 
words of Laud were a solemn denial of the charge 
of aflection for Pome : his chaplain, Dr Sterne, 
attended him to the scaffold, where, after some 
minutes spent in prayer, his head was cut off at 
one blow, in the 72nd year of his age. His body 
was buried in the church of Allhallows, Barking, 
near the Tower, but in 1GG3 was removed to his 
college at Oxford. He had been for several 
years Chancellor of that University, to which he 
gave many valuable MSS., and where many other 
proofs of his munificent patronage of learning 
yet remain. He employed Inigo Jones to build 
the picturesque eastern wing of St John's ; here, 
in 1G36, he entertained at dinner, the King and 
Queen and Prince Pupert. He restored the 
painted windows in the chapel at Lambeth, it was 
alleged, ' by their like in the mass-book,' but 
this he utterly denied. 

AYhitelock says : ' Laud was too full of fire, 
though a just and good man ; and his want of 
experience in state matters and too much zeal 
for church ceremonies, if he proceeded in the 
way he was then in, would set the nation on fire.' 
Even at the University he had the character of 
being * at least very popishly inclined.' ' His 
bigotry and cruelty in the execution of his high 
olHce ought assuredly not to have gone unpun- 
ished ; but the sentence against him was, perhaps, 
the most unjustifiable act of the zealots of the 
Long Parliament ; and it appears strongly one 
of the disadvantages of government by a large 
assembly of men : for the odium of the death of 
Laud, being divided among so many, has neither 
brought with it individual infamy, nor was likely 
to produce individual remorse.' — Westminster 
lieview, vol. xvii. 


On the 10th January 1G09-10, Sir Henry 

Yelverton, Pecorder of Northampton, and a 
member of Parliament, wrote out an account 
of the measures he took for regaining the favour 
of the King and some of his state-oIUcers, which 
he had forfeited in consequence of the misunder- 
standing of some parts of his conduct and certain 
expressions which he had publicly used. Erom 
this document we get near glimpses of the King 
and some of his ministers, and it must be con- 
fessed that they do not suffer by being seen so 
near ; on the contrary, one becomes rather in- 
clined to think that they possessed at least the 
Christian graces of courtesy, patience, and pla- 
cableness in a creditable degree, and might be 
much more tolerable personages than they are 
usually represented to be by modern historians. 

According to Mr Foss, Sir Henry Yelverton, 
being returned by Northampton to the first par- 
liament of King James, ' took an independent, 
but not a factious part.' * An English parlia- 
ment Avas then like the Eeichsrath of Austria in 
our own time : it was expected to deliberate, but 
not to be very obstinate in thwarting the royal 
wishes. Yelverton thought rather more of the 
interest of the public than of the desires of the 
King. He did not fully and freely concur in 
granting the subsidy which was desired, but 
advocated its being graduated over a series of 
years, that its payment might be more easy. His 
language was plain and direct, and perhaps did 
include a few expressions that might have been 
better omitted. It was reported to James that 
Sir Henry Yelverton did not act as one of his 
friends in parliament. Moreover, he was said to 
have spoken on several occasions disrespectfully 
of the Scottish nation, and in particular of Sir 
George Dunbar, the Lord Treasurer of Scotland, 
and of the Earl of Dunfermline, its Chancellor. 
He soon learned that the King and these two 
ministers were deeply offended with him, and 
that the royal disfavour might prove a serious 
impediment to his advance in life. 

If Sir Henry Yelverton had been meaning to act 
the part of a high-flying patriot, he would, we may 
hope, have disregarded these hints and wrapped 
himself in his virtue, as many did in the next 
reign. But he had no such thing in view, nor 
was there then any great occasion at this time for 
a high patriotism. He was a good-natured 
though honest and sincere man, well-affected to 
the King, his officers, and nation ; and he saw no 
reason for remaining on bad terms with them, if 
a few words of explanation covild restore him to 
their good graces. He therefore resolved, if 
possible, to see the persons offended, and i)ut 
himself right with them. 

The firsl step he took was to consult aa ith a 
Scotch gentleman, ' one Mr Drummond,' as to the 
means of approaching the persons offended. We 
suspect this to have been AVilliam Drummond, the 
poet, who was just at this time returning from 
his legal studies at Paris, and would probably be 
passing through London on his way homewards ; 
but we only can speak by conjecture. By ' Mr 
Drummond ' Yelverton was recommended to use 
any favour he had with the Lady Arabella 
Stuart, the King's cousin, in order to make an 
advance to the Lord Chancellor Dunfermline, 
* Foss's Judges of England, 1857, vol. vi. p. 391. 




who was then livinfr in London. By Lady Ara- 
bella's kind intervention, an interview was 
arranged between Yelverton and the Chancellor, 
which accordingly took place at the Scottish 
Secretary of State's house in IVanoirk Lane. 
This Chancellor, it may be remarked, was a 
Seton, a man of magnificent tastes, and most 
dignified and astute character. He frankly told 
Yelverton that the King had, on being spoken to 
on the subject, shewn himself grievously dis- 
pleased, but yet not unwilling to listen to any 
certain and authentic expression of his regret for 
the past, if such should be presented to him ; 
and the Chancellor undertook to lay a petition 
from Yelverton before his Majesty. 

The petition sets forth that he, Sir Henry 
Yelverton, had long been vexed with the grief 
of his Highness' displeasure, and that it added 
much to the petitioner's unhappiness that he 
could not see the way how to make known to his 
Highness his sorrow and the truth of his subjec- 
tion ; he adds : ' Pardon, most merciful Sovereign, 
him who, by misconstruction onljr, hath thus been 
wrapped and chained in your Highness' dis- 
pleasure ; for if ever, either by way of compari- 
son or otherwise, any word did ever slip me 
either in disgrace or diminution of the state of 
the Scottish nation, I neither wish mercy from 
God, nor grace from your Majesty ; yea, vouch- 
safe, most renowned and noble Sovereign, to 
credit me thus far, that I never so much as 
lisped out any word against the Union, which I 
as heartily seek as any subject can ; neither did 
ever in Pai-liament so much as whisper against 
the general naturalisation it seemed your High- 
ness upon weighty reasons did desire.' 

The arrangements for the interview being 
completed, Sir H. Yelverton thus narrates the 
detads : ' After which, the 6th of .January 1G09, 
being sent for to court by his lordship, about five 
of the clock in the afternoon, he brought me into 
the King's presence, where his Majesty sat alone 
in his chair in his bedchamber ; but soon after 
nw coming in, while I was on my knee, and his 
Majesty having entered into his speech, there 
came in, besides, my Lord of Dunbar (who was 
there at first), my Lord Chamberlain, and my 
Lord of Worcester, and stood all behind me. 

'At my first coming in I made three low 
congees to his Majesty, and being somewhat far 
from him, stirring his hat, he beckoned his hand, 
and bade me come near ; so, coming on, the carpet 
was spread before his Majesty, and I kneeled 
on my right knee, and spake as foDoweth : 

' " I humbly beseech your most excellent Ma- 
jesty to vouchsafe your gracious pardon for all 
offences past, which I protest were not wilfully 
committed, but only out of the error of my 
judgment, which I ever was and ever will be 
ready to reform as I shall be taught from your 
Majesty." * 

The King paused, and beckoning with his hand, 
thrice bade Sir Henry stand up, which he then 
did : stirring his hat again, ' with a mild coun- 
tenance,' he addressed Sir Henry at considerable 
length, complaining of his proposing a Bill to 
naturalise my Lord Kinloss, ' because he was 
half English, making a hateful distinction between 
him that was all Scot, and him that was some 

part of this nation. If he were a mere Scot, 
away with him ; but if he came from hence of any 
late time, then dandle him, and welcome him as 
a home-born : which reason M^as the worse made 
by you, tJiat knows much and can speak so sourly. 
For since my title to this crown hath fetched me 
out of Scotland, and that both nations are my 
subjects, and 1 their head, would you have the 
left side so strange from the right, as there should 
be no embracement nor intercourse between 
them ? Nay, you should rather have reasoned. We 
are now become brethren under one governor, 
and therefore what God hath joined let not us 
still keep in two.' The King then complained of 
Sir Henry's opposition to the subsidy, as well 
as to the union, to the general naturalisation of 
the Scots, to the commerce desirable between 
both nations, and to the abolition of the hostile 

' After his Majesty's speech. Sir Henry again 
knelt down, and, in whatsoever his Majesty should 
condemn him, would not labour to excuse him- 
self; but humbly desired to purge his offence by 
his lowliest submission and faithful promise of 
amendment hereafter.' Sir Henry then touched 
upon the several points of his Majesty's speech, 
and the King replied, and concluded with saying, 
' I shut up all, and acquit you.' Sir Henry 
humbly thanked the King, who bade him stand 
up ; my Lord of Dunbar kneeling, desired that 
Sir Henry might kiss the king's hand, whereupon 
the king said, ' With all my heart,' and Sir Henry 
kissed the royal hand three times, bowed, and 

On the 10th of January, Sir Henry Yelverton 
went to the Lord Treasurer at Whitehall, and 
thanked his lordship for the furtherance of his 
peace and reconciliation with the King, to which 
the Lord Treasurer replied, concluding with the 
friendly assurance : ' " But now all is well, and 
persuade yourself you have lost nothing by this 
jar between the King and you, for as by this the 
world knows you to be honest and sufficient, so 
the judgment of the King is, that there is good 
matter in you ; for myself, I will desire your 
friendship as you do mine, and will promise to 
do you my best ; whereupon in pledge I give you 
my hand :" and so, shaking me by the hand, he 
bid me farewell.' 

Soon after this reconciliation, viz. in 1G13, 
Mr Yelverton was made Solicitor-General, and 
knighted ; and in 1616, Attorney-General. In 
1625, he was made one of the Justices of the 
King's Bench, and afterwards of the Common 
Pleas : and had not the Duke of Buckingham 
been suddenly cut off, he would, in aUprobability, 
have been made Lord Keeper of the Great Seal. 


The 10th of January 18 10 wiU be a memorable 
day in the history of civilization, as that on which 
the idea of a Penny Postage was first exemplified. 
The practical benefits derived from this reform, 
are so well known that it is needless to dwell upon 
them. Let us rather turn attention for a iidv^ 
moments to the remarkable, yet most modest 
man, whom his species have to thank for this 
noble invention. Eowland Hill, born in 1795, 





was devoted through, all his early years, even 
from boyhood, to tho business of a teacher. At 
the age of forty, we Jind him engaged in conduct- 
ing the colonization ol' Soulli Australia upon the 
plan of Mr. Edward tnbbou AVakefleld, for which 
his piowers of organization gave him a great ad- 
vantage, and in which his labours were attended 
with a high degree of success. It was about the 
year 1835, that he turned his attention to the 
postal system of the country, with the conviction 
that it was susceptible of reform. Under enor- 
mous ditllculties. he contrived to collect informa- 
tion upon the subject, so as to satisfy himself, 
and enable him to satisfy others, that the public 
might be benefited by a cheaper postage, and yet 
the revenue remain ultimately undiminished. 

The leading facts on which he based his conclu- 
sions have been detailed in an authoritative docu- 
ment. ' The cost of a letter to the Post-OiBce 
he saw was divisible into three branches. First, 
that of receiving the letter and preparing it for 
its journey, which, under the old regime, was 
troublesome enough, as the postage varied first 
in proportion to the distance it had to travel ; 
and again, according as it was composed of one, 
two, or three sheets of paper, each item of charge 
being exorbitant. For instance, a letter from 
London to Edinburgh, if single, was rated at 
Is. lid. ; if double, at 2s. 3d. ; and if treble, at 
3s. 4kl.; any — the minutest — inclosure being 
treated as an additional sheet. The duty of 
taxing letters, or writing upon each of them its 


postage, thus became a complicated transaction, 
occupying much time and employing the labour 
of many clerks. This, and other duties, which 
we will not stop to specify, comprised the first of 
the three branches of expense which each letter 
imposed on the office. The second was the cost 
of transit from post-office to post-ofiice. And this 
expense, even for so great a distance as from 
London to Edinburgh, proved, upon careful ex- 
amination, to be no more than the ninth part 
of a farthing ! The third branch was that of 
delivering the letter and receiving the postage 
— letters being for the most part sent away un- 
paid. Rowland Hill saw that, although a con- 
siderable reduction of postage might and ought 
to be made, even if the change rested there, yet 
that, if he eould cheapen the cost to the Post- 1 

office, the reduction to the public could be carried 
very much further, without entailing on the 
revenue any ultimate loss of serious amount. He 
therefore addressed himself to the simplification 
of the various processes. If, instead of charging 
according to the number of sheets or scraps of 
paper, a weight should be fixed, below which a 
letter, whatever might be its contents, should 
only bear a single charge, much trouble to the 
office would be spared, while an unjust mode of 
taxation would be abolished. For, certainly, a 
double letter did not impose double cost, nor a 
treble letter three-fold cost upon the Post-office. 
But, if the alteration had rested there, a great 
source of labour to the office would have remained; 
because postage would still have been augmented 
upon each letter in proportion to the distance it 




had to travel. In the absence of knowledge as 
to the very minute cost of mere transit, such an 
arrangement would appear just ; or, to place the 
question in another light, it would seem unjust 
to charge as much for delivering a letter at the 
distance of a mile from the office at which it was 
posted as for delivering a letter at Edinburgh 
transmitted from London. But when Rowland 
Hill had, by his investigation, ascertained that 
the diflference between the cost of transit in the 
one instance and the other was an insignificant 
fraction of a farthing, it became obvious that it 
was a nearer approximation to perfect justice to 
pass over this petty inequ.ality than to tax it 
even to the amount of the smallest coin of the 
realm. With regard to the third head, all that 
could be done for lessening the cost attendant 
on delivering the letters from house to house, 
was to devise some plan of pre-payment which 
should be acceptable to the public (so long 
accustomed to throw the cost of correspondence 
on the receiver of a letter instead of the sender), 
and which, at the same time, should not transfer 
the task of collection to the receiving-office, 
while it relieved the letter-carriers attached to 
the distributing office; otherwise comparatively 
little would have been gained by the change. 
This led to the proposal for pre-payment by 
stamped labels, whereby the Post-office is alto- 
gether relieved from the duty of collecting post- 
age. Thus, one by one, were the impediments 
all removed to the accomplishment of a grand 
object — uniformity of postage throughout the 
British Isles.' * 

It necessarily followed, from the economy thus 
proposed, that the universal rate might be a low 
one, which again might be expected to react 
favourably on the new system, in enabling a 
wider public to send and receive letters. A 
brother of Mr Hill had, a few years before, 
suggested the Fenny Magazine. Perhaps this 
was the basis of Mr Rowland Hill's conception, 
that each letter of a certain moderate weight 
should be charged one penny. The idea was 
simple and intelligible, and, when announced in 
a pamphlet in 1837, it was at once heartily em- 
braced by the public. Neither the government 
nor the opposition patronised it. The Post-office 
authorities discountenanced it as much as possible. 
Nevertheless, from the mere force of piiblic sen- 
timent, it was introduced into parliament and 
ratified in 1839. 

The Whig ministry of the day were so far just 
to Mr Hill, that they gave him a Treasury ap- 
pointment to enable liim to work out his plan, 
and this he held till the Conservative party 
came into power in 1841. Having been by 
them bowed out of office, on the allegation 
that his part of the business was accomplished, 
he might have shared the fate of many other 
public benefactors, if the community had not 
already become profoundly impressed with a 
sense of the value of his scheme. They marked 
their feeling towards him by a subscription which 
amounted to fifteen thousand pounds. On the 
replacement of the Whigs in 1846, he was brought 
back into office as Secretary to the Postmaster- 

* Our Exemplars, Poor and Rich. Edited by Matthew 
D. IliU. Loudon, 18G1, p. 317. 

General; in which position, and as Secretary to 
the Post-Office (to which honour he attained in 
3854), he has been duly active in effecting im- 
provements having the public convenience in 
view. Of these the chief has been the organiza- 
tion of the Money-Order Office, by which up- 
wards of thirteen millions sterling are annually 
transmitted from hand to hand at an insignificant 
expense. Twenty-one years have now fnlly 
proved the virtues of the Penny Postage, under 
favour of which the number of letters transmitted 
by the Office annually has advanced from 77 
to 545 millions, with an addition of outlay or 
cost on the part of the public amounting only to 
fifty per cent. Nor has England alone to thank 
Rowland HiU, for there is no civilised country 
which has not adopted his scheme. It was surely 
by a most worthy exercise of the royal power 
that the inventor of Penny Postage received in 
1860 the dignity of Knight Commander of the 


St Hyginus, pope and martyr, 142. St Theodosius, 
the Ccenobiarch, 529. St Salvius or Sauve, bishop of 
Amiens, 7th century. St Egwin, bishop, confessor, 


St Theodosius died in 529, at the age of 104. 
He was a native of Cappadocia, but when a young 
man removed to Jerusalem, in the vicinity of 
which city he resided during the remainder of 
his life. ISe is said to have lived for about thirty 
years as a hermit, in a cave, but having been joined 
by other saintly persons, he finally established a 
monastic community not far from Bethlehem. 
He was enabled to erect a suitable building, to 
which by degrees he added churches, infirmaries, 
and houses for the reception of strangers. The 
monks of Palestine at that period were called 
Coenobites ; and Sallustius, bishop of Jei'usalem, 
having appointed Theodosius superintendent of 
the monasteries, he received the name of Cceno- 
biarch. He was banished by the Emperor 
Anastasius about the year 513, in consequence of 
liis opposition to the Eutychian heresy, but was 
recalled by the Emperor Jxistinus. 

' The first lesson which he taught his monks 
was, that the continiial remembrance of death is 
the foundation of religious perfection ; to imprint 
this more deeply in their minds, he caused a great 
grave or pit to be dug, which might serve for the 
common burial-place of the Avhole community, 
that by the presence of this memorial of death, 
and by continually meditating on that object, 
they might more perfectly learn to die daily. 
The burial-place being made, the abbot one day, 
when he had led his monks to it, said: " The grave 
is made ; who will first perform the dedication ?" 
Basil, a priest, who was one of the number, fall- 
ing on his knees, said to St Theodosius : " I am 
the pei'son ; be pleased to give me your blessing." 
Tlic al)bot ordered the prayers of the Church for 
the dead to be offered up for him, and on the 
fortieth day, Basil wonderfully departed to our 
Lord in peace, without any apparent sickness.' — 





It may not bo superfluous, in all reverence, to 
remark that, -while a remembrance of our mor- 
tality is an cssent ial part of religion, it is not neces- 
sary to be continually thinking on that siibject. 
Life has active duties calling for a diilcrent exer- 
cise of our thoughts from day to day and through- 
out the hours of the day, and which ^YOuld 
necessarily be neglected if vre ■were to be 
obedient to the mandate of the Cccnobiarch. 
Generally, our activity depends on the hopes of 
living, not on our expectation of dying ; and 
perhaps it v-ould not be very dillicult to shew 
that the fact of our not being naturally disposed 
to dwell on the idea of an end to life, is one to be 
grateful for to the Author of the Universe, seeing 
that not merely our happiness, but in some degree 
our virtues, depend upon it. 

Born. — Francesco Mazzuoli rarmigitino, painter, Parma, 
1503 ; Henry Duke of Norfolk, 1G54. 

Died. — Sir Hans Sloaue, M.D., 17.i3 ; Francois Rou- 
biliiic, sculptor, 1762 ; Dominic Cimarosa, musician, 
1801; F. Schlegel, German critic, 1829. 


]\Ir E. Browne (son of Sir Thomas Browne) 
tells us in his journal {Sloane MSS.) of the cele- 
bration of the birthday of Mr Henry Howard 
(afterwards Dukeof JN'orfolk) at Norwich, January 
11. lGG-1, when they kept tip the dance till two 
o'clock in the morning. The festivities at Christ- 
mas, in the ducal palace there, are also described 
by Mr Browne, and we get an idea from them of 
the extravagant merry-makings which the national 
joy at the Eestoratiou had made fashionable. 
' They had dancing every night, and gave enter- 
tainments to all that would come ; he built 
up a room on purpose to dance in, very large, 
and hung with the bravest hangings I ever 
saw ; his candlesticks, snuifers, tongs, fire- 
shovels, and andirons, were silver ; a ban- 
quet was given every night after dancing ; and 
three coaches were employed to fetch ladies 
every afternoon, the greatest of which would 
hold fourteen persons, and cost five hundred 
pound, without the harness, which cost six score 

'January 5, Tuesday. I dined with Mr 
Howard, where we drank out of pure gold, 
and had the music all the while, with the like, 
answerable to the grandeur of [so] noble a per- 
son : this night I danc'd with him also. 

'January 6. I din'dat my aunt Bendish's, and 
made an end of Christmas, at the duke's palace, 
with dancing at night, and a great banquet. His 
gates were open'd, and such a number of people 
tlock'd in, that all the beer they could set out 
in the streets could not divert the stream of the 
multitudes, till very late at night.' 


Sir Hans Sloane, Bart., the eminent physician 
and naturalist, from whose collections originated 
the British Museum, born at Killeleagh, in 
the north of Ireland, April 16, 1G60, but of 
Scotch extraction— his father having been the 
head of a colony of Scots settled in Ulster imder 

James I. — gives us something like the model of a 
life perfectly useful in proportion to powers and 
opportunities. Having studied medicine and 
natural history, he settled in London in 168i, 
and was soon after elected a EeUow of the 
lioyal Society, to which he presented some 
curiosities. In 1G87 he Mas chosen a Fellow of 
the College of Physicians, and in the same year 
sailed for Jamaica, and remained there sixteen 
months, when he returned with a collection of 
800 species of plants, and commenced publishing 
a Natural IlUtovt/ of Jamaica, the second volume 
of which did not appear until nearly twenty years 
subsequent to the first ; his collections in natural 
history, &c., then comprising 8,226 specimens in 
botany alone, besides 200 volumes of dried sam- 
ples of plants. In 1716 George I. created Sloane 
a baronet — a title to which no English physician 
had before attained. In 1719 he was elected 
President of the College of Physicians, which 
office he held for sixteen years ; and in 1727 he 
was elected President of the Iloyal Society. He 
zealously exercised all his official duties until 
the age of fourscore. He then retired to an 
estate which he had purchased at Chelsea, where 
he continued to receive the visits of scientific men, 
of learned foreigners, and of the Iloyal Family ; 
and he never refused admittance nor advice to 
rich or poor, though he was so infirm as but 
rarely to take a little air in his garden in a 
wheeled chair. He died after a short illness, 
bequeathing his museum to the public, on con- 
dition that £20,000 should be paid to his family ; 
which sum scarcely exceeded the intrinsic value 
of the gold and silver medals, and the ores and 
precious stones in his collection, which lie de- 
clares, in hia will, cost at least £50,000. His 
library, consisting of 3,556 manuscripts and 
50,000 volumes, was included in the bequest. 
Parliament accepted the trust on the required 
conditions, and thus Sloane's collections formed 
the nucleus of the British Museum. 

Sir Hans Sloane was a generous public bene- 
factor. He devoted to charitable purposes every 
shilling of his thirty years' salary as physician 
to Christ's Hospital ; he greatly assisted to 
establish the Dispensary set on foot by the Col- 
lege of Physicians ; and he presented the Apo- 
thecaries' Company with the freehold of their 
Botanic Gardens at Chelsea. Sloane also aided 
in the formation of the Foundling Hospital. His 
remains rest in the churchyard of St Luke's, by 
the river-side, Chelsea, where his monument has 
an urn entwined Avith serpents. His life was 
protracted by extraordinary means : when a youth 
he was attacked by spitting of blood, which in- 
terrupted his education for three years ; but by 
abstinence from wine and other stimulants, and 
continuing, in some measure, this regimen ever 
afterwards, he was enabled to prolong his life to 
the age of ninety-three years;* exemplifying 
the truth of his favourite maxim — that sobriety, 

* Sir Edward Wilmot, the pbysician, was, when a 
youth, so far gone in consumption, that Dr. Rddcliffe, 
whom he consulted, gave his friends no hopes of his 
recovery, yet he lived to the age of ninety-three ; and Dr 
Heberden notes : " This has been the case with some 
others, who had many symptoms of consumption in 




temperance, and moderation are tlie best pre- 
servatives that nature has granted to mankind. 

Sir Hans Sloane was noted for his hospitality, 
but there were three things he never had at his 
table — salmon, champagne, and burgundy. 


The first lottery in England, as far as is ascer- 
tained, began to be drawn on the 11th of January, 
1569, at the west door of St Paul's Cathedral, 
and continued day and night till the 6th of May. 
The scheme, which had been announced two years 
before, shews that the lottery consisted of forty 
thousand lots or shares, at ten shillings each, and 
that it comprehended ' a great number of good 
prizes, as well of ready money as of plate, and 
certain sorts of merchandize.' The object of 
any profit that might arise from the scheme was 
the reparation of harbours and other useful public 

Lotteries did not take their origin in England ; 
they were known in Italy at an earlier date ; but 
from the year above named, in the reign of Queen 
Elizabeth, down to 1826, (excepting for a short 
time following upon an Act of Queen Anne.) 
they continued to be adopted by the English 
government, as a source of revenue. It seems 
strange that so glaringly immoral a project 
should have been kept up with such sanction so 
long. The younger people at the present day 
may be at a loss to believe that, in the days of 
their fathers, there were large and imposing 
offices in London, and pretentious agencies in 
the provinces, for the sale of lottery tickets ; 
while flaming advertisements on walls, in new 
books, and in the public journals, proclaimed the 
prefex-ablenessofsuchand such 'lucky' offices — this 
one having sold two-sixteenths of the last twenty 
thousand pounds prize ; that one a half of the 
same ; another having sold an entire thirty thou- 
sand pound ticket the year before ; and so on. 
It was found possible to persuade the public, or 
a portion of it, that where a blessing had once 
lighted it was the more likely to light again. 

The State lottery was framed on the simple 
principle, that the State held forth a certain sum 
to be repaid by a larger. The transaction was 
usually managed thus. The government gave 
£10 in prizes for every share taken, on an average. 
A great many, blanks, or of prizes under £10, left, 
of course, a surplus for the creation of a few 
magnificent prizes wherewith to attract the un- 
wary public. Certain firms in the city, known 
as lottery -office-keepers, contracted for the lottery, 
each taking a certain number of shares ; the sum 
paid by them was always more than £10 per share ; 
and the excess constituted the government profit. 
It was customary, for many years, for the con- 
tractors to give about £16 to the government, 
and then to charge the public from £20 to £22. 
It was made lawful for the contractors to divide 
the shares into halves, quarters, eighths, and six- 
teenths ; and the contractors always charged 
relatively more for these aliquot parts. A man 
with thirty shillings to spare could buy a six- 
teenth ; and the contractors made a large portion 
of their profit out of such customers. 

The government sometimes paid the prizes in 
terminable annuities instead of cash ; and the 

loan system and the lottery system were occa- 
sionally combined in a very odd way. Thus, 
in 1780, every subscriber of £1000 towards a loan 
of £12,000,000, at four per cent., received a bonus 
of four lottery tickets, the value of each of which 
was £10, and any one of which might be the 
fortunate number for a twenty or thirty thousand 
pounds prize. 

Amongst the lottery offices, the competition for 
business was intense. One firm, finding an old 
woman in the country named Goodluck, gave her 
fifty pounds a year on condition that she would 
join them as a nominal partner, for the sake of 
the attractive effect of her name. In their ad- 
vertisements each was sedulous to tell how many 
of the grand prizes had in former years fallen 
to the lot of persons who had bought at his shop. 
Woodcuts and copies of verses were abundant, 
suited to attract the uneducated. Lotteries, by 
creating illusive hopes, and supplanting steady 
industry, wrought immense mischief. Shopmen 
robbed their masters, servant girls their mis- 
tresses, friends borrowed from each other under 
false pretences, and husbands stinted their wives 
and children of necessaries — all to raise the means 
for buying a portion or the whole of a lottery 
ticket. But, although the humble and ignorant 
were the chief purchasers, there were many 
others who ought to have known better. In the 
interval between the purchase of a ticket and 
the drawing of the lottery, the speculators were 
in a state of unhealthy excitement. On one oc- 
casion a fraudulent dealer managed to sell the 
same ticket to two persons ; it came up a five 
hundred pound prize ; and one of the two went 
raving mad when he found that the real ticket 
was, after all, not held by him. On one occasion 
circumstances excited the public to such a degree 
that extravagant biddings were made for the few 
remaining shares in the lottery of that year, until 
at length one hundred and twenty guineas were 
given for a ticket on the day before the drawing. 
One particular year was marked by a singular 
incident : a lottery ticket was given to a child 
inihorn, and was drawn a prize of one thousand 
pounds on the day after his birth. In 1767 a 
lady residing in Holborn had a lottery ticket 
presented to her by her husband ; and on the 
Sunday preceding the drawing her success was 
frayed fur in the parish church, in this form : 
' The prayers of this congregation are desired for 
the success of a person engaged in a new under- 
taking.' In the same year the prize (or a prize) 
of twenty thousand pounds fell to the lot of a 
tavern-keeper at Abingdon. We are told, in the 
journals of the time — 'The broker who went 
from town to carry him the news he compli- 
mented with one hundred pounds. All the bells 
in the town were set a ringing. He called in his 
neighbours, and promised, to assist this with a 
capital sum, that with another ; gave away plenty 
of liquor, and vowed to lend a poor cobbler money 
to buy leather to stock his stall so full that he 
should not be able to get into it to work ; and 
lastly, he promised to buy a new coach for the 
coachman who brought him down the ticket, and 
to give a set of as good horses as could be bought 
for money.' 
The theory of ' lucky numbers' was ia great 





favour in tlie days of lotteries. At the drawing, 
papers were put into ii lioUow wheel, inscribed 
with, as many different numbers as there were 
shares or tickets ; one of these was drawn out 
(usually by a Blue-coat boy, who had a holiday 
and a "present on sucli occasions), and the num- 
ber audibly announced; another Blue-coat boy 
then drew out of another wheel a paper denoting 
either ' blank' or a ' prize' for a certain sum of 
money ; and the purchaser of that particular num- 
ber was awarded a blank or a prize accordingly. 
"With a view to lucky numbers, one man would 
select his own age, or the age of his wife ; another 
would select the date of the year ; another a row 
of odd or of even numbers. Persons who went 
to rest with their thoughts full of lottery tickets 
were very likely to dream of some one or more 
numbers, and such dreams had a fearful influ- 
ence on the wakers on the following morning. 
The readers of the Spectator will remember an 
amusing paper (No. 191, Oct. 9th, 1711), in which 
the subject of lucky numbers is treated in a 
manner pleasantly combining banter with useful 
caution. The man who selected 1711 because it 
was the year of our Lord ; the other who sought 
for 134, because it constituted the minority on a 
celebrated bUl in the Hoixse of Commons ; the 
third who selected the ' mark of the Beast,' 666, 
on the ground that wicked beings are often lucky 
^these may or may not have been real instances 
quoted hj the Spectator, but they serve well 
as types of classes. One lady, in 1790, bought 
No. 17090, because she thought it was the nearest 
in sound to 1790, which was already sold to some 
other applicant. On one occasion a tradesman 
bought four tickets, consecutive in numbers : he 
thought it foolish to have them so close together, 
and took one back to the ofHce to be exchanged ; 
the one thus taken back tiu'ned up a twenty 
thousand pounds prize ! 

The lottery mania brought other evils in its 
train. A species of gambling sprang up, re- 
sembling time-bargains on the Stock Exchange ; 
in which two persons, A and B, lay a wager as to 
the price of Consols at some future day ; neither 
intend to buy or to sell, although nominally they 
treat for £10,000 or £100,000 of stock. So in the 
lottery days ; men who did not possess tickets 
nevertheless lost or won by the failure or success 
of particular numbers, through a species of in- 
surance which was in effect gambling. The mat- 
ter was reduced almost to a mathematical science, 
or to an application of the theory of probabilities. 
Treatises and Essays, Tables and Calculations, 
were published for the benefit of the speculators. 
One of them, Painter s Guide to the Lottery, 
published in 1787, had a very long title-page, of 
which the following is only a part : — ' The whole 
business of Insuring Tickets in the State Lottery 
clearly explained ; the several advantages taken 
by the office keepers pointed out ; an easy method 

fiven, whereby any person may compute the 
'robability of his Success upon purchasing or in- 
suring any particular number of tickets ; with a 
Table of the prices of Insurance for every day's 
drawing in the ensuing Lottery ; and another 
Table, containing the number of tickets a person 
ought to purchase to make it an equal chance to 
have any particular prize.' 

94 ' 

This being in 1864 the first Monday after 
Twelfth Day, is for the year Plough Monday. 
Such was the name of a rustic festival, hereto- 
foi-e of great account in England, bearing in its 
first aspect, like St Distaff's Day, reference to 
the resumption of labour after the Christmas 
holidays. In Catholic times, the ploughmen kept 
lights burning before certain images in churches, 
to obtain a blessing on their work ; and they were 
accustomed on this day to go about in procession, 
gathering money for the support o?t)ie?ie plough- 
lights, as they were called. The [Reformation pxit 
out the lights ; but it could not extinguish the 
festival. The peasantry contrived to go about in 
procession, collecting money, though only to be 
spent in conviviality in the public-house. It was 
at no remote date a very gay and rather pleasant- 
looking affair. A plough was dressed up with 
ribbons and other decorations — the Fool Plough. 
Thirty or forty stalwart swains, with their shirts 
over their jackets, and their shoulders and hats 
flaming with ribbons, dragged it along from house 
to house, preceded by one in the dress of an old 
woman, but much bedizened, bearing the name 
of Bessy. There was also a^Eool, in fantastic 
attire. In some parts of the country, morris- 
dancers attended the procession ; occasionally, 
too, some reproduction of the ancient Scan- 
dinavian sword-dance added to the means of per- 
suading money out of the pockets of the lieges. 

A Correspondent, who has borne a part (cow- 
horn blowing) on many a Plough Monday in 
Lincolnshire, thus describes what happened on 
these occasions under his own observation : — 
' Eude though it was, the Plough procession 
threw a life into the dreary scenery of winter, as 
it came winding along the quiet rutted lanes, on 
its way from one village to another ; for the 
ploughmen from many a surrounding tliorpe, 
hamlet, and lonely fai-m-house united in the cele- 
bration of Plough Monday. It was nothing mw- 
usual for at least a score of the " sons of the soil" 
to yoke themselves with ropes to the plough, 
having put on clean smock-frocks in honour of 
the day. There was no limit to the number 
who joined in the morris-dance, and were partners 
with " Bessy," who carried the money-box ; and 
all these had ribbons in their hats and pinned 
about them wherever there was room to display a 
bunch. Many a hardworking country Molly lent 
a helping hand in decorating out her Johnny for 
Plough Monday, and finished him with an admiring 
exclamation of — " Lawks, John ! thou does look 
smart, surely." Some also wore small bunches of 
corn in their hats, from which the wheat was soon 
shaken out by the ungainly jumping which they 
called dancing. Occasionally, if the winter was 
severe, the procession was joined by threshers 
carrying their flails, reapers bearing their sickles, 
and carters with their long whips, which they 
were ever cracking to add to the noise, while 
even the smith and the miller were among the 
number, for the one sharpened the plough-shares 
and the other ground the corn ; and Bessy rattled 
his box and danced so high that he shewed his 
worsted stockings and corduroy breeches ; and 




very often, if there was a thaw, tucked up his 
gown skirts under his waistcoat, and shook the 
bonnet off his head, and disarranged the long 
ringlets that ought to have concealed his whiskers. 
For Betsy is to the procession of Plough Monday 

what the leading Jiff urante is to an opera or bal- 
let, and dances about as gracefully as the hippo- 
potami described by Dr Livingstone. But these 
rough antics were the cause of much laughter, 
andrarely do we ever remember hearing any coarse 


jest that would call up the angry blush to a 
modest cheek. 

' No doubt they were called " ploiigh bullocks," 
through drawing the plough, as bullocks were 
formerly used, and are stdl yoked to the plough 
in some parts of the country. The rubbishy 
verses they recited are not worth preserving 
beyond the line which graces many a public-house 
sign of " God speed the plough." At the large 
farm-house, besides money they obtained re- 
freshment, and through the quantity of ale they 
thus drank during the day, managed to get what 
they called " their load" by night. Even the 
poorest cottagers dropped a few pence into Bessy's 

' But the great event of the day was when 
they came before some house which bore signs that 
the owner was well-to-do in the world, and 
nothing was given to them. Bessy rattled his 
box and the ploughmen danced, while the country 
lads blew their bullocks' horns, or shouted with all 
their might ; but if there was still no sign, no 
coming forth of either bread-and-cheese or ale, then 
the word was given, the ploughshare driven into 
the ground before the door or window, the whole 
twenty men yoked pulling like one, and in a 
minute or two the ground before the house was 
as brown, barren, and ridgy as a newly-ploughed 
field. But this was rarely done, for everybody 
gave something, and were it but little the men 
never murmured, though they might talk about 
the stinginess of the giver afterwards amongst 
themselves, more especially if the party was what 
they called " well off in the world." Vi'e are not 

aware that the ploughmen were ever summoned 
to answer for such a breach of the law, for they 
believe, to use their own expressive language, 
" they can stand by it, and no law in the world 
can touch 'em, 'cause it's an old charter;" and we 
are sure it would spoil their " folly to be wise." 

' One of the mummers generally wears a fox's 
skin in the form of a liood ; but beyond the 
laughter the tail that hangs down his back 
awakens by its motion as he dances, we are at a 
loss to find a meaning. Bessy formerly wore a 
bullock's tail behind, under his gown, and which 
he held in his hand while dancing, but that 
appendage has not been worn of late. 

• Some writers believe it is called White 
Plough Monday on account of the mummers 
having worn their shirts outside their other gar- 
ments. This they may have done to set off the 
gaudy-coloured ribbons ; though a clean white 
smock frock, such as they are accustomed to 
wear, would shew off their gay decorations quite 
as well. The shirts so worn we have never seen. 
Others have stated that Plough Monday has its 
origin from ploughing again commencing at this 
season. But this is rarely the case, as the ground 
is generally too hard, and the ploughing is 
either done in autumn, or is rarely begun until 
February, and very often not until the March 
sun has warmed and softened the ground. Some 
again argue that Plough Monday is a festival 
held in remembrance of " the plough having 
ceased from its labour." After weighing all 
these arguments, we have come to the conclusion 
that the true light in which to look at the origin 





of this ancient cnstoni is that thrown upon the 
subjeet by the plouj^hman's caudk\ burnt in the 
church at the slu-ine of some saint, and that 
to maintain this lic;ht contributions were collected 
and sanctioned bv the Church, and that the 
priests were the oriijinators of riou^h Monday.' 

At AVhitbv. in Yorkshire, according to its his- 
torian, the liev G. Young, there was usually an 
extra band oi' six to dance the sword-dance. 
With one or nu^re musicians to give them music 
on the violin or ilute, they first arranged them- 
selves in a ring with tlieir swords raised in the 
air. Then tliey went through a series of evolu- 
tions, at first slow and simple, afterwards more 
rapid and complicated, but always graceful. 
' Towards the close each one catches the point of 
his neighbour's sword, and various movements 
take place in consequence ; one of which consists 
in joining or plaiting the swords into the form of 
an elegant hexagon or rose, in the centre of the 
ring. Avhifh rose is so firmly made that one of 
them holds it up above their heads without un- 
doing it. The dance closes with taking it to 
pieces, each man laying hold of his own sword. 
During the dance, two or three of the company 
called"To;«5 or Cloiois, dressed up as harlequins, 
in most fantastic modes, having their faces 
painted or masked, are making antic gestures to 
amuse the spectators ; while another set called 
Madgies or Madgy Pegs, clumsily dressed in 
•women's clothes, and also masked or painted, go 
from door to door rattling old canisters, in which 
they receive money. Where they are well paid 
they raise a huzza ; where they get nothing, they 
shout " hunger and starvation ! " ' 

Domesticlife in old times, however rude and 
comfortless compared with what it now is, or may 
be, was relieved by many little jocularities and 
traits of festive feeling. When the day came for 
the renewal of labour in earnest, there was a sort 
of competition between the maids and the men 
which should be most prompt in rising to work. 
If the ploughmen were up and dressed at the fire- 
side, with some of their held implements in hand, 
before the maids could get the kettle on, the latter 
party had to furnish a cock for the men next 
Shrovetide. As an alternative upon this statute, 
if any of the ploughmen, returning at night, 
came to the kitchen hatch, and cried ' Cock in the 
pot,' before any maid could cry ' Cock on the 
dunghill 1' she incurred the same forfeit. 


Gervase Markham gives an account of these 
in his Fareicell to Kushandry, 1653 ; and he starts 
with an allusion to the popular festival now under 
notice. ' We will,' says he, ' suppose it to be 
after Christmas, or about Plow Day, (which is the 
first Betting out of the plow,) and at what time 
men either begin to fallow, or to break up pease- 
earth, which is to lie to bait, according to the 
custom of the country. At this time the Plow- 
man shall rise before four o'clock in the morning, 
and after thanks given to God for his rest, and the 
success of his labours, he shall go into his stable 
or beast-house, and first he shall fodder his cattle, 
then clean the house, and make the booths 

[stalls?] clean ; rub down the cattle, and cleanse 
their skins from all filtii. Then he shall curry 
his horses, rub them with cloths and wisps, and 
make both them and the stable as clean as may 
be. Tlien lie shall water both his oxen and horses, 
and housing them again, give them more fodder 
and to his liorse by all means provender, as chaff 
and dry pease or beans, or oat-hulls, or clean 
garbage (which is the hinder ends of any grain 
but rye), with the straw chopped small 
amongst it, according as the ability of the 
husbandman is. 

' And wliile they arc eating their meat, he shall 
make ready his collars, hames, treats, lialters. 
mullers, and plow-gears, seeing everything fit and 
in its due place, and to these labours I will also 
allow two liours ; that is, from four of the clock 
till six. Then he shall come in to breakfast, and 
to that I allow him half an hour, and then another 
half hour to the yoking and gearing of his cattle, 
so that at seven he may set forth to his labours ; 
and then he shall plow from seven o'clock in the 
morning till betwixt two and three in the after- 
noon. Then he shall unyoke and bring home his 
cattle, and having rubbed them, dressed them, 
and cleansed them from all dirt and filth, he shall 
fodder them and give them meat. Then shall 
the servants go in to their dinner, which allowed 
half an hour, it will then be towards four of the 
clock ; at what time he shall go to his cattle 
again, and rubbing them down and cleansing their 
stalls, give them more fodder ; which done, he 
shall go into the barns, and provide and make 
ready fodder of all kinds for the next day 

' This being done, and carried into the stable, 
ox-house, or other convenient place, he shall then 
go water his cattle, and give them more meat, 
and to his horse provender; and by this time 
it will draw past six o'clock; at what time 
he shall come in to supper, and after supper he 
shall either sit by the fireside, mend shoes both 
for himself and their family, or beat and knock 
hemp or flax, or pick and stamp apples or crabs 
for cider or vinegar, or else grind malt on the 
querns, pick candle rushes, or do some husbandly 


oiUce till it be fully eight o'clock. Then shall he 
take his lanthorn and candle, and go see his cattle, 
and having cleansed his stalls and planks, litter 
them down, look that they are safely tied, and 
then fodder and give them meat for all night. 
Then, giving God thanks for benefits received 
that day, let him and the whole household go to 
their rest tdl the next morning.' 




It is rather surprising to find the quern, the 
hand-mill of Scripture, continuing in use in Eng- 
land so late as the time of the Commonwealth, 
though only for the grinding of malt. It is uotv 
obsolete even in the Highlands, but is still used 
in the Faroe Islands. The stone mill of Bible 
times appears to have been di'iven by two women ; 
but in Western Europe it was fashioned to be 
driven by one only, sometimes by a fixed handle, 
and sometimes by a moveable stick inserted in a 
hole in the circumference. 


St Arcadius, martyr. St Benedict, commonly called 
Bennet, 690. St Tygrius, priest. St jElred, 1166. 


Biscop was a Northumbrian monk, who paid 
several visits to Home, collecting relics, pictures, 
and books, and finally was able to found the two 
monasteries of Wearmouth and Jarrow. Lam- 
barde, who seems to have been no admirer of 
ornamental architecture or the fine arts, thus 
speaks of St Benedict Biscop : ' This man laboured 
to Rome five several tymes, for what other thinge 
I find not save only to procure pope-holye privi- 
leges, and curious ornaments for his monasteries, 
Jarrow and Weremouth; for first he gotte for 
theise houses, wherein he nourished 600 monks, 
great liberties ; then brought he them home from 
Rome, painters, glasiers, free-masons, and singers, 
to th' end that his buildings might so shyne 
with workmanshipe, and his churches so sounde 
with melodye, that simple souls ravished there- 
withe should fantasie of theim nothinge but 
heavenly holynes. In this jolitie continued 
theise houses, and other by theire example em- 
braced the like, tiU Hinguar and Hubba, the 
Danish pyrates, a.d. 870, were raised by God to 
abate their pride, who not only fyred and spoyled 
them, but also almost all the religious houses on 
the north-east coast of the island.' 

Born. — George Fourth Earl of Clarendon, 1800. 
Died. — The Emperor Maximilian I., 1519 ; the Duke 
of Alva, Lisbon, 1583 ; John C. Lavater, 1801, Zurich. 


This great general of the Imperial army and 
Minister of State of Charles v., was educated 
both for the field and the cabinet, though he 
owed his promotion in the former service rather 
to the caprice than the perception of his sove- 
reign, who promoted him to the first rank in the 
army more as a mark of favour than from any 
consideration of his military talents. He was 
undoubtedly the ablest general of his age. He 
was principally distinguished for his skill and 
prudence in choosing his positions, and for main- 
taining strict discipline in his troops. He often 
obtained, by patient stratagem, those advantages 
which would have been thrown away or dearly 
acquired by a precipitate encounter with the 
enemy. On the Emperor wishing to know his 
opinion about attacking the Turks, he advised 

him rather to build them a golden bridge than 
offer them a decisive battle. Being at Cologne, 
and avoiding, as he always did, an engagement 
with the Dutch troops, the Archbishop urged 
him to fight. ' The object of a general,' an- 
swered the Duke, ' is not to fight, but to conquer ; 
he fights enough who obtains the victory.' Dur- 
ing a career of so many years, he never lost a 

While we admire the astute commander, we 
can never hear the name of Alva without horror 
for the cruelties of which he was guilty in his 
endeavours to preserve the Low Countries for 
Spain. During his government in Holland, he 
is reckoned to have put 18,000 of the citizens to 
death. Such were the extremities to which 
fanaticism could carry men generally not defi- 
cient in estimable qualities, during the great 
controversies which rose in Europe in the six- 
teenth and seventeenth centuries. 


Under January 12, 1722-3, Thomas Hearne, 
the antiquary, enters in his Diary, what he had 
learned regarding a man who had been at Oxford 
not long before, — a man remarkable for a morbid 
appetite, leading him to devour large quantities 
of raw, half-putrid meat. The common story 
told regarding him was, that he had once at- 
tempted to imitate the Saviour in a forty days' 
Lent fast, broke down in it, and ' was taken with 
this unnatural way of eating.' 

One of the most remarkable gluttons of 
modern times was Nicholas Wood, of Harrison, 
in Kent, of whom Taylor, the Water Poet, 
wrote an amusing account, in which the follow- 
ing feat is described : ' Two loynes of mutton 
and one loyne of veal were but as three sprats 
to him. Once, at Sir Warham St Leger's house, 
he shewed himself so violent of teeth and sto- 
mach, that he ate as much as would have served 
and sufficed thirty men, so that his belly was like 
to turn bankrupt and break, but that the serving- 
man turned him to the fire, and anointed his 
paunch with grease and butter, to make it stretch 
and hold ; and afterwards, being laid in bed, he 
slept eight hours, and fasted all the while; 
which, when the knight understood, he com- 
manded him^ to be laid in the stocks, and there 
to endui'e as long as he had laine bedrid with 

In a book published in 1823, under the title of 
Points of Humour, having illustrations by the 
unapproachable George Cruikshank, there is a 
droll anecdote regarding an inordinate eater : 
'When Charles Gustavus, King of Sweden, 
was besieging Prague, a boor of a most extra- 
ordinary visage desired admittance to his tent; 
and being allowed to enter, he offered, by way of 
amusement, to devour a large hog in his presence. 
The old General Kojnigsmark, who stood by the 
King's side, hinted to his royal master that the 
peasant ought to be burnt as a sorcerer. " Sir," 
said the fellow, irritated at the remark, " if your 
Majesty will but make that old gentleman take 
off his sword and spurs, I wiU eat him before I 
begin the pig." General Koenigsmark, who, 
at the head of a body of Swedes, performed 
^ 97 




wonders a£;ainst tlio Austrians, could not stand 
tliis proposal, espeeiallj' as it was accompanied 
by a most hideous expansion of tlie jaws and 
mouth. Without uttering a word, the veteran 
turned pale, and suddenly ran out of the tent ; 
nor did he think himself safe till he arrived at 
his quarters.' 


Lord Chatham, writing to his nephew, January 
12. 175-i, says: — ' Vitanda est improha S>/ren, 
Desidia, I desire may be affixed to the curtains 
of your bedchamber. If you do not rise early, 
you can never make any progress worth mention- 
ing. If you do not set apart your hours of 
reading ; if you suffer yourself or any one else to 
break in upon them, your days will slip through 
3'our hands unprofitably and frivolously, unpraised 
by all you wish to please, and reaUy unenjoyed 
by yourself.' 

It must, nevertheless, be owned that to rise 
earl}- in cold weather, and in the gloomy dusk of 
a January morning, requires no small exertion of 
virtuous resolution, and is by no means the least 
of life's trials. Leigh Hunt has described the 
trying character of the crisis in his Indicator : 

' On opening my eyes, the first thing that 
meets them is my own breath rolling forth, as if 
in the open air, like smoke out of a cottage- 
chimney. Think of this symptom. Then I turn 
my eyes sideways and see the window all frozen 
over. Think of that. Then the servant comes 
in. "It is very cold this morning, is it not?" — 
" Very cold, sir."- — " Very cold indeed, isn't it ?" 
— " Very cold indeed, sir." — " More than usually 
80, isn't it, even for this weather?" (Here the 
servant's wit and good nature are put to a con- 
siderable test, and the inquirer lies on thorns for 
the answer.) " Why, sir, .... I think it is." 
(Good creature ! There is not a better or more 
truth-telling servant going.) " I must rise, how- 
ever. Get me some warm water." — Here comes 
a fine interval between the departure of the ser- 
vant and the arrival of the hot water ; during 
which, of course, it is of "no use" to get up. 
The hot water comes. " Is it quite hot ?" — " Yes, 
sir." — " Perhaps too hot for shaving : I must wait 
a little ?"-— " No, sir ; it will just do." (There is 
an over-nice propriety sometimes, an ofiicious 
zeal of virtue, a little troublesome.) " Oh— the 
shirt — you must air my clean shirt : — linen gets 
very damp this weather." — "Yes, sir." Here 
another delicious five minutes. A knock at the 
door. " Oh, the shirt — very well. My stockings 
— I think the stockings had better be aired too." 
— " Very well, sir." — Here another interval. At 
length everything is ready, except myself. I now 
cannot help thinking a good deal — who can ? — 
upon the unnecessary and villanous custom of 
shaving ; it is a thing so unmanly (here I nestle 
closer) — so efi'eminate, (here I recoil from an 
unlucky step into the colder part of the bed.)— 
Ko wonder, that the queen of France took part 
with the rebels against that degenerate king, her 
husband, who first aSronted her smooth visage 
with a face like her own. The Emperor Julian 
never showed the luxuriancy of his genius to 
better advantage than in reviving the flowing 

beard. Look at Cardinal Bembo's picture — at 
Michael Angelo's— at Titian's— at Shakspeare's 
— at Fletcher's — at Spenser's — at Chaucer's — at 
Alfred's — at Plato's. I could name a great man 
for every tick of my watch. Look at the Turks, 
a grave and otiose people — Think of Haroun AI 
Easchid and Bed-ridden Hassan — Think of 
Wortley Montague, the worthy son of his 
mother, a man above the prejudice of his time — 
Look at the Persian gentlemen, whom one is 
ashamed of meeting about the suburbs, their 
dress and appearance are so much finer than our 
own— Lastly, think of the razor itself — how 
totally opposed to every sensation of bed — how 
cold, how edgy, how hard ! how utterly different 
from anything like the warm and circling ampli- 
tude which 

Sweetly recommends itself 
Unto our gentle senses. 

Add to this, benumbed fingers, which may help 
you to cut yourself, a quivering body, a frozen 
towel, and an ewer full of ice ; and he that says 
there is nothing to oppose iu all this, only shews, 
at any rate, that he has no merit in opposiag it.' 

Down to the time of our grandfathers, while 
there was less conveniency in the world than 
now, there was much more state. The nobHity 
lived in a very dignified way, and amongst the 
particulars of their grandeur was the custom of 
keeping running footmen. All great people 
deemed it a necessary part of their travelling 
equipage, that one or more men should run in 
front of the carriage, not for any useful purpose, 
unless it might be in some instances to assist in 
lifting the carriage out of ruts, or helping it 
through rivers, but principally and professedly 
as a mark of the consequence of the traveller. 
Roads being generally bad, coach travelling was 
not rapid in those days ; seldom above five miles 
an hour. The straiu required to keep up with 
his master's coach was accordingly not very severe 
on one of these officials ; at least, it was not so 
till towards the end of the eighteenth century, 
when, as a consequence of the acceleration of 
travelling, the custom began to be given up. 

Nevertheless, the running footman required to 
be a healthy and agile man, and both in his dress 
and his diet a regard was had to the long and 
comparatively rapid journeys which he had to 
perform. A light black cap, a jockey coat, white 
linen trousers, or a mere linen shirt coming to 
the knees, with a pole six or seven feet long, con- 
stituted his outfit. On the top of the pole was a 
hollow ball, in which he kept a hard-boiled egg, 
or a little white wine, to serve as a refreshment 
in his journey ; and this ball-topped pole seems 
to be the original of the long silver-headed cane 
which is still borne by footmen at the backs of 
the carriages of the nobility. A clever runner 
in his best days would undertake to do as much 
as seven miles an hour, when necessary, and go 
three-score miles a day; but, of course, it was 




not possible for any man to last long who tasked 
himself in this manner. 

The custom of keeping running footmen sur- 
vived to such recent times that Sir Walter Scott 
remembered seeing the state-coach of John Earl 

of Hopetoun attended by one of the fraternity, 
' clothed in white, and bearing a staff.' It is 
believed that the Duke of Queensberry who 
died in 1810, kept up the practice longer than 
any other of the London grandees : and Mr 

Thorns tells an amusing anecdote of a man who 
came to be hired for the duty by that ancient but 
far from venerable peer. His grace was in the 
habit of trying their paces by seeing how they 
could run up and down Piccadilly, he watching 
and timing them from his balcony. They put on 
a livery before the trial. On one occasion, a 
candidate presented himself, dressed, and ran. 
At the conclusion of his performance he stood 
before the balcony. ' You will do very well for 
me,' said the duke. 'And your livery will do 
very weU for me,' replied the man, and gave the 
duke a last proof of his ability as a runner by 
then running away with it.* 

Eunning footmen were employed by the Aus- 
trian nobility down to the close of the last cen- 
tury. Mrs St George, describing her visit to 
Vienna at that time,t expresses her dislike of the 
custom, as cruel and unnecessary. ' These un- 
happy people,' she says, 'always precede the 
carriage of their masters in town, and sometimes 
even to the suburbs. They seldom live above 

* Notes and Queries, 2nd ser., i. 9. 
t Journal kept during a visit to Germany, in 1799, 
1800. Privately printed. 1861, 

three or four years, and generally die of con- 
sumption. Fatigue and disease are painted in 
their pallid and drawn features ; but, like victims, 
they are crowned with flowers, and adorned with 

The dress of the official abroad seems to have 
been of a very gaudy character. A contri- 
butor to the Notes and Queries describes in vivid 
terms the appearance of the three footmen who 
preceded the King of Saxony's carriage, on a 
road near Dresden, on a hot July day in 1845 : 
' Pirst, in the centre of the dusty chaussee, about 
thirty yards ahead of the foremost horses' heads, 
came a tail, thin, white-haired old man ; he 
looked six feet high, about seventy years of age, 
but as lithe as a deer ; his legs and body were 
clothed in drawers or tights of white linen ; his 
jacket was like a jockey's, the colours blue and 
yellow, with lace and fringes on the facings ; on 
his head a sort of barret cap, slashed and orna- 
mented with lace and embroidery, and decorated 
in front with two curling heron's plumes ; round 
his waist a deep belt of leather with silk and 
lace fringes, tassels, and quaint embroidery, 
which seemed to serve as a sort of pouch to the 
wearer. In his right hand he held, grasped by 





tlie niiddlo. a stafF about two feet long, carved 
and pointed witli a silver head, and something like 
bells or metal drops hung round it, that gingled 
as he ran. liehind him, one on each side of the 
road, dressed and accoutred in the same style, 
came his two sons, liaudsome, tall young fellows 
of from twenty to twenty-five years of age ; and 
so the king passed on.' 

In our country, the running footman was occa- 
sionally employed upon simple errands when un- 
usual dispatch was required. In the neighbourhood 
of various great houses in Scotland, the countrj^ 
people still tell stories illustrative of the singular 
speed which these men attained. For example : 
the Earl of Home, residing at Hume Castle 
in Berwickshire, had occasion to send his foot- 
man to Edinburgh one evening on important 
business. Descending to the hall in the morning, 
he found the man asleep on a bench, and, think- 
ing he had neglected his duty, prepared to chas- 
tise him, but found, to his surprise, that the man 
had been to Edinburgh (thirty-five miles) and 
back, with his business sped, since the past even- 
ing. As another instance : the Duke of Lauder- 
dale, in the reign of Charles II., being to give a 
large dinner-party at his castle of Thirlstane, 
near Lauder, it was discovered, at the laying of 
the cloth, that some additional plate would be 
required from the Duke's other seat of Lething- 
ton, near Haddington, fuUy fifteen miles distant 
across the Lammermuir hills. The running 
footman instantly darted off, and was back with 
the required articles in time for dinner ! The 
great boast of the running footman was that, on 
a long journey, he could beat a horse. ' A tra- 
ditional anecdote is related of one of these fleet 
messengers (rather half-witted), who was sent 
from Glasgow to Edinburgh for two doctors to 
come to see his sick master. He was interrupted 
on the road with an inc[uiry how his master was 
now. " He's no dead yet," was the reply ; " but 
he'll soon be, for I'm fast on the way for twa 
Edinburgh doctors to come and visit him." ' * 

Langham, an Irishman, who served Henry 
Lord Berkeley as running footman in Elizabeth's 
time, on one occasion, this noble's wife being 
sick, ' carried a letter from Callowdon to old Dr 
Fryer, a physician dwelling in Little Britain in 
London, and returned with a glass bottle in his 
hand, compounded by the doctor, for the reco- 
very of her health, a journey of 148 miles per- 
formed by him in less than forty-two hours, 
notwithstanding his stay of one night at the 
physician's and apothecary's houses, which no 
one horse could have so well and safely per- 
formed; for which the Lady shall after give 
him a new suit of clothes.' — Berkeley Manu- 
scripts, 4to, 1821, p. 204. 

The memory of this singular custom is kept 
alive in the ordinary name for a man-servant — 
a footman. In Charles Street, Berkeley Square, 
London, there is a particular memorial of it in 
the sign of a public-house, caUed The Bimning 
Footman, much used by the servants of the 
neighbouring gentry. Here is represented a tall, 
agile man in gay attire, and with a stick having a 
metal ball at top ; he is engaged in running. 


Notes and Queries, 2nd ear., i. 121. 

Underneath is inscribed, 'I am the only Bunning 
Footman.' Of this sign a transcript is presented 
on the preceding page. 


new-year's day, o. s. 

St Kentigern (otherwise St Mungo), of Glasgow, 601 ; 
St Veronica of Milan, 1497. 

The 13th of January is held as St Hilary's day by the 
Church of England. On this day, accordingly, begins 
the Hilary Term at Cambridge, though on the 14th at 
Oxford ; concluding respectively on the Friday and 
Saturday next before Palm Sunday. 


St Veronica was originally a poor girl working 
in the fields near Milan. The pious instructions 
of her parents fell upon a heart naturally sus- 
ceptible in a high degree of religious impres- 
sions, and she soon became an aspirant for 
conventual life. Entering the nunnery of St 
Martha in Milan, she in time became its supe- 
rioress ; in which position her conduct was most 
exemplary. Some years after her death, which 
took place in 1497, Pope Leo X. allowed her to be 
honoured in her convent in the same manner as 
if she had been beatified in the usual form. 

Veronica appears as one whose mind had been 
wholly subdued to a religious life. She was evan- 
gelical perfection according to the ideas of her 
Church and her age. Even under extreme and lin- 
gering sickness, she persisted in taking her share 
of the duties of her convent, submitting to the 
greatest di'udgeries, and desiring to live solely on 
bread and water. ' Her silence was a sign of her 
recollection and continual prayer ; in which her 
gift of abundant and almost continual tears was 
most wonderfid. She nourished them by constant 
meditation on her own miseries, on the love of 
God, the joys of heaven, and the sacred passion 
of Christ. She always spoke of her own sinful 
life, as she called it, though it was most inno- 
cent, Avith the most profound compunction. She 
was favoured by God with many extraordinary 
visits and comforts.' — Butler. 

The name Veronica conducts the mind back to 
a very curious, and very ancient, though obscure 
legend of the Romish Church. It is stated that 
the Saviour, at his passion, had his face wiped 
with a handkerchief by a devout female attend- 
ant, and that the cloth became miraculously im- 
pressed with the image of his countenance. It 
became Veea Iconica, or a true portrait of those 
blessed features. The handkerchief, being sent to 
Abgarus, king of Odessa, passed through a series 
of adventures, but ultimately settled at Home, 
where it has been kept for many centuries in St 
Peter's Church, under the highest veneration. 
There seems even to be a votive mass, ' de 
Sancta Veronica seu vultu Domini,' the idea 
being thus personified, after a manner peculiar to 
the ancient Church. From the term Vera Iconica 
has come the name Veronica, the image being 
thus, as it were, personified in the character of a 




female saint, who, however, remains without bio- 
graphy and date. As a curiosity amongst ancient 
religious ideas, a picture of the revered handker- 
chief is here given. 

From a series of papers contributed to the Art 
Journal for 1861, by Mr Thomas Heaphy, artist, 
London, entitled Ati Examination of the Antiquity 
of the Likeness of our Blessed Lord, it appears 

that the legendary portrait of Christ can be 
traced Avith a respectable amount of evidence, 
much farther back than most persons ai'e aware 
of. In the early days of the Christian Church at 
Eome, before it received the protection of the 
empire, the worshippers, rendered by their hopes 
of resurrection anxious to avoid burning the bodies 
of their friends, yet living amongst a people who 
burnt the dead and considered any other mode 
of disposing of them as a nuisance, were driven 

to the necessity of making subterranean excava- 
tions for purposes of sepulture, generally in 
secluded grounds belonging to rich individuals. 
Hence the famous Catacombs of Home, dark pas- 
sages in the rock, sometimes three above each 
other, having tiers of recesses for bodies along 
their sides, and all wonderfully well preserved. 
In these recesses, not imfrequently, the remains 
of bodies exist ; in many, there are tablets telling 
who was the deceased ; in some, there arc recesses 






containing laclirymatories, or tear-vials, and little 
glass vessels, the sacramental cups of the primi- 
tive church, on which may still be traced pictures 
of Christ and his principal disciples. A vast 
number, however, of these curious remains have 
been transferred to the Vatican, where they are 
guarded with the most jealous care. 

Mr Heaphy met with extraordinary difficulties 
in Ilia attempts to examine the Catacombs, and 

scarcely less in his endeavours to see the stores 
of reliques in the Vatican. He has nevertheless 
placed before us a very interesting series of the 
pictures found, generally wrought in gold, on the 
glass cups above adverted to. Excepting in one 
instance, where Christ is represented in the act 
of raising Lazarus from the dead (in which case 
the face is an ordinary one with a Brutus crop of 
hair), the portrait of Jesus is invariably repre- 

sented as that peculiar oval one, with parted hair, 
with which we are so familiar ; and the fact be- 
comes only the more remarkable from the con- 
trast it presents to other faces, as those of St 
Peter or St Paul, which occur in the same pictures, 
and all of which have their own characteristic 
forms and expressions. Now, TertuUian, who 
wrote about the year 160, speaks of these por- 
traits on sacramental vessels as a practice of the 
first Christians, as if it were, eveii in his time, a 
thing of the past. And thus the probability of 
their being found very soon after the time of 
Christ, and when the tradition of his personal 
appearance was still fresh, is, m Mr Heaphy's 
opinion, established. 

We are enabled here to give a specimen of 
these curious illustrations of early Christianity, 
being one on which Mr Heaphy makes the fol- 
lowing remarks : ' An instance of what may be 
termed the transition of the type, being ap- 
parently executed at a time when some informa- 
tion respecting the more obvious traits in the true 
likeness had reached Eome, and the artist felt no 
longer at liberty to adopt the mere conventional 
type of aKoman youth, but aimed at giving such 
distinctive features to the portrait as he was able 
from the partial information which had reached 
him. We see in this instance that our Saviour, 

who is represented as giving the crown of life to 
St Peter and St Paul, is delineated with the hair 
divided in the middle (distinctly contrary to the 
fashion of that day) and a beard, being so far an 

approximation to the true type One thing 

to be specially noticed is, that the portraits of the 
two apostles were at that time already depicted 
under an easily recognised type of character, as 
will be seen by comparing this picture with two 
others which will appear hereafter, in all of which 
the short, curled, bald head and thick-set features 
of St Peter are at once discernible, and afford 
direct evidence of its being an exact portrait 
likeness, [while] the representation of St Paul is 
scarcely less characteristic' 


Out of the obscurity -which envelopes the his- 
tory of the northern part of our island in the 
fifth and sixth centuries, when aU of it that was 
not provincial Roman was occupied by Keltic 
tribes under various denominations, there loom 
before us three holy figures, engaged in planting 
Christianity. The first of these was Ninian, who 
built a church of stone at Whithorn, on the pro- 
montory of Wigton ; another was Serf, who some 
time after had a cell at Culross, on the north 




shore of the Firth of Forth ; a third was Kenti- 
gern, pupil of the last, and more notable than 
either. He appears to have flourished through- 
out the sixth century, and to have died in 601. 
Through his mother, named Thenew, he was con- 
nected with the royal family of the Cumbrian 
Britons — a rude state stretching along the west 
side of the island between "Wales and Argyle. 
After being educated by Serf at Culross, he 
returned among his own people, and planted 
a small religious establishment on the banks of a 
little stream which falls into the Clyde at what 
is now the city of Glasgow. Upon a tree beside 
the clearing in the forest, he hung his bell to 
summon the savage neighbours to worship ; and 
the tree with the bell stiU figures in the arms of 
Glasgow. Thus was the commencement made of 
what in time became a seat of population in con- 
nexion with an episcopal see ; by and by, an in- 
dustrious town ; ultimately, what we now see, a 
magnificent city with half a million of inhabitants. 
Kentigern, though his amiable character pro- 
cured him the name of Mungo, or the Beloved, 
had great troubles from the then king of the 
Strathclyde Britons ; and at one time he had 
to seek a refuge in "Wales, where, however, he 
employed himself to some purpose, as he there 
founded, under the care of a follower, St Asaph, 
the religious establishment of that name, now the 
seat of an English bishopric. 

Resuming his residence at Glasgow, he spent 
many years in the most pious exercises — for one 
thing reciting the whole psalter once every day. 
As generally happened with those who gave 
themselves up entirely to sanctitude, he acquired 
the reputation of being able to effect miracles. 
Contemporary with him, though a good deal his 
junior, was Columba, who had founded the cele- 
brated monastery of I-colm-kill. It is recorded 
that Columba came to see St Eentigern at his 
little church beside the Clyde, and that they 
interchanged their respective pastoral staves, as 
a token of brotherly affection. For a time, these 
two places were the centres of Christian mis- 
sionary exertion in the country now called 
Scotland. St Kentigern, at length dying at an 
advanced age, was buried on the spot where, five 
centuries afterwards, arose the beautiful cathedral 
which stUl bears his name. 

Born. — Charles James Fox, statesman, 1748. 

Died. — George Fox, founder of the sect of Quakers, 
1690; Dr James Macknight, 1800; Earl of Eldon 
(formerly Lord Chancellor of England), 1838. 


Of Charles James Fox, the character given by 
his friends is very attractive : 'He was,' says Sir 
James Mackintosh, ' gentle, modest, placable, 
kind, of simple manners, and so averse from 
parade and dogmatism, as to be not only unosten- 
tatious, but even somewhat inactive in conversa- 
tion. His superiority was never felt, but in the in- 
struction which he imparted, or in the attention 
which his generous preference usually directed 
to the more obscure members of the company. 
His conversation, when it was not repressed by 
modesty or indolence, was delightful. The 
pleasantry, perhaps, of no man of wit had so 

unlaboured an appearance. It seemed rather to 
escape from his mind than to be produced by it. 
His literature was various and elegant. In 
classical erudition, which, by the custom of 
England, is more peculiarly called learning, he 
was inferior to few professed scholars. Like aU 


men of genius, he delighted to take refuge in 
poetry, from the vulgarity and irritation of busi- 
ness. His own verses Avere easy and pleasing, 
and might have claimed no low place among those 
which the French call vers de societe. He dis- 
liked political conversation, and never willingly 

took any part in it From these qualities 

of his private as well as from his public character, 
it probably arose that no English statesman ever 
preserved, during so long a period of adverse 
fortune, so many affectionate friends, and so 
many zealous adherents.' 

The shades of Fox's history are to be found in 
his extravagance, his gambling habits (which re- 
duced him to the degradation of having his debts 
paid by subscription), and his irregular domestic 
life ; but how shall the historian rebuke one 
whose friends declared that they found his faults 
made him only the more lovable ? 

Viewing the unreasonableness of many party 
movements and doings, simply virtuous people 
sometimes feel inclined to regard, part)/ as wholly 
opposed in spirit to truth and justice. Hear, 
however, the defence put forward for it by the 
great "V\^hig leader : ' The question,' says he, 
' upon the solution of which, in my opinion, prin- 
cipally depends the utility of party, is, in what 
situations are men most or least likely to act 
corruptly — in a party, or insulated ? and of this 
I think there can be no doubt. There is no man 
so pure who is not more or less influenced, in a 
doubtful case, by the interests of his fortune or 
his ambition. If, therefore, a man has to decide 
upon every new question, this influence will 
have so many frequent opportunities of exerting 
itself that it wiU in most cases ultimately prevail ; 
whereas, if a man has once engaged in a party, 
the occasions for new decisions are more rare, 
and consequently these corrupt influences operate 
less. This reasoning is much strengthened when 
you consider that many men's minds are so framed 
that, in a question at all dubious, they are inca- 
pable of any decision ; some, from narrowness of 
understanding, not seeing the point of the ques- 
tion at aU; others, from refLnement, seeing so 





nuicli on both sides, that they ck") not know how 
to bahmce the account. Snch persons will, in 
nine cases out of ten. be iuilueneed by interest, 
even without their being conscious of their cor- 
ruption. In short, it appears to me that a party 
spirit is the only substitute that has been found, 
or can be found, for public virtue and compre- 
hensive understanding ; neither of which can be 
reasonably expected to be found in a very great 
number of people. Over and above all this, it 
appears to me to be a constant incitement to 
everything that is right : for, if a party spirit 
prevails, all power, aye, and all rank too, in the 
liberal sense of the word, is in a great measure 
elective. To be at the head of a party, or even 
high in it, you must have the confidence of the 
party ; and confidence is not to be procured by 
abilities alone. In an Epitaph upon Lord Eock- 
ingham, written I believe by Burke, it is said, 
" his virtues were Ms means ,-" and very truly ; and 
so, more or less, it must be with every party 
man. Whatever teaches men to depend upon 
one another, and to feel the necessity of con- 
ciliating the good opinion of those with whom 
they live, is surely of the highest advantage to 
the morals and happiness of mankind ; and what 
does this so much as party ? Many of these 
which I have mentioned are only collateral ad- 
vantages, as it were, belonging to this system; 
but the decisive argument upon this subject ap- 
pears to me to be this : Is there any other mode 
or plan in this country by which a rational man 
can hope to stem the power and influence of the 
Crown ? I am sure that neither experience nor 
any well-reasoned theory has ever shewn any 
other. Is there any other plan which is likely 
to make so great a number of persons resist the 
temptations of titles and emoluments ? And if 
these things are so, ought we to abandon a 
system from which so much good has been de- 
rived, because some men have acted incon- 
sistently, or because, from the circumstances of 
the moment, we are not likely to act with much 

, Mr Fox was the third son of Henry Fox, 
afterwards Lord Holland, and of Lady Georgina 
Caroline Fox, eldest daughter of Charles, second 
Duke of Eichmond. As a child he was remarkable 
for the quickness of his parts, his engaging disposi- 
tion, and early intelligence. ' There's a clever little 
boy for you !' exclaims his father to Lady Caroline 
Fox, in repeating a remark made a lyroioos by his 
son Charles, when hardly more than two years and 
a half old. ' I dined at home to-day,' he says, in 
another letter to her, ' tete-a-tete with Charles, 
intending to do business, but he has found me 
pleasanter employment, and was very sorry to go 
away so soon.' He is, in another letter, described 
as 'very pert, and very argumentative, all life 
and spirits, motion, and good humour ; stage- 
mad, but it makes him read a good deal.' That 
he was excessively indulged is certain : his father 
had promised that he should be present when a 
garden wall was to be flung down, and having 
forgotten it, the wall was built up again— it was 
said, that he might fulfil his promise. 


Dr James Macknight, born in 1721, one of the 

ministers of Edinburgh, wrote a laborious work 
on the Apostolical Epistles, which was published 
in 1795, in four volumes 4to. He had worked 
at it for eleven hours a day for a series of years, 
and, though well advanced in life, maintained 
tolerable health of body and mind through these 
uncommon labours ; but no sooner was his mind 
relieved of its familiar task, than its powers, 
particularly in the department of memory, sen- 
sibly began to give way; and the brief remainder of 
his life was one of decline. Dibdin recommends 
the inviting quartos of Macknight, as containing 
'learning without pedantry, and piety without 


It is a circumstance not much known in Pro- 
testant countries, that the head of the Eonian 
Catholic Church does not ascend the pulpit. 
Whether it is deemed a lowering of dignity for 
one who is a sovereign prince as well as a high 
priest to preach a sermon like other priests, or 
whether he has not time — certain it is that priests 
cease to be preachers when they become popes. 
One single exception in three hundi-ed years 
tends to illustrate the rule. The present pope, 
Pius IX., has supplied that exception. It has 
been his lot to be, and to do, and to see many 
things that lie out of the usual path of pontiflTs, 
and this among the number. 

On the 2nd of June 1846, Pope Gregory XVI. 
died. Fifty - one cardinals assembled at the 
palace of the Quirinal at Eome, on Sunday the 
14th, to elect one of their body as a successor to 
Gregory. The choice fell on Giovanni Maria 
Mastai Ferretti, Cardinal-Archbishop of Imola ; 
and he ascended the chair of St Peter as Pope 
Pius IX. He was a liberal man, who had won 
much popular esteem by his general kindness, 
especially to the poor and afflicted. While yet 
an archbishop, he occupied the pulpit one day in 
an unexpected manner ; the officiating priest was 
taken ill during his sermon, and the cardinal, 
who was present, at once took his place, his text, 
and his line of argument. It was equally an un- 
foreseen incident for him to preach as a pope. The 
matter is thus noticed in Count de Liancoiirt's 
Pius the Ninth: the First Year of his Fontiji- 
cate, under the date January 13th, 1847 : ' This 
circumstance has been noticed in the chronologi- 
cal tables of the year as an event which had not 
occurred before for three hundred years. But 
it is as well that it should be known that it was 
not a premeditated design on the part of his 
Holiness, but merely the result of accident. On 
the day in question, the Octave of the Epiphany, 
the celebrated preacher Padre Ventura, whose 
eloquence attracted crowds of eager listeners, 
had not arrived at the church (de Santa Andrea 
della Valle, at Eome) ; and the disappointed con- 
gregation, thinking indisposition was the cause 
of his absence, were on the point of retiring, 
when suddenly the bells rang, and announced 
the unexpected arrival of the Sovereign Pontiff. 
It is impossible to describe the feelings of the 
congregation, or the deep interest and excite- 
ment which were produced in their minds when 
they saw Pius IX. advance towards the pulpit, 
or the profound silence with wliich they listened 




to liis dLscoursc' It was a simple, good, plain 
Bermon, easily intelligible to all. 

This was a day to be remembered, for Pius IX. 
was held almost in adoration at that time by the 
excitable Italians. He was a reforming pope, a 
liberal pope. He offended Austria and all the 
petty despots of Italy by his measures as an 
Italian prince, if not as the head of the Church. 
He liberated political prisoners ; gave the first 
sign of encouragement to the construction of 
railways in the papal dominions ; gave increased 
freedom to the press ; encouraged scientific 
meetings and researches ; announced his aj)- 
proval of popular education; surrounded him- 
self with liberal ministers ; and purified the 
papal household. It was hard work for liim to 
contend against the opposition of Lambruschini 
and other cardinals ; but he did so. Alas ! it 
was all too good to be permanent. The year 1848 
arrived, and with it those convulsions which 
agitated almost every country in Europe. Pope 
Pius became thoroughly frightened. He either 
reaUy believed that nations are not fitted for so 
much liberty and liberalism as he had hitherto 
been willing to give them, or else the power 
brought to bear against him by emperors, kings, 
princes, grand - dukes, cardinals, and arch- 
bishops, was greater than he could withstand. 
He changed his manners and proceedings, and 
became like other popes. What followed all 
this, belongs to the history of Italy. 


The Act for the change of the style (24 Geo. II. 
cap. 23) provided that the legal year in England 
1752 should commence, not on the 25th of March, 
but on the 1st of January, and that after the 3rd 
of September in that year, the next ensuing 
day should be held as the 14th, thus dropping 
out eleven days. The Act also included provi- 
sions regarding the days for fairs and markets, 
the periods of legal obligations, and the future 
arrangements of the calendar. A reformed plan 
of the calendar, with tables for the moveable 
feasts, &c. occupies many pages of the statute. 

The change of the style by Pope Gregory in 
the sixteentli century was well received by the 
people of the Catholic world. Miracles which 
took place periodically on certain days of the 
year, as for example the melting of the blood of 
St Gennaro at Naples on the 19th of September, 
observed the new style in the most orthodox 
manner, and the common people hence concluded 
that it was aU right. The Protestant populace 
of England, equally ignorant, but without any 
such quasi-religious principle to guide them, 
were, on the contrary, violently inflamed against 
the statesmen who had carried through the bill 
for the change of style ; generally believing that 
they had been defrauded of eleven days (as if 
eleven days of their destined lives) by the trans- 
action. Accordingly, it is told that for some 
time afterwards, a favourite opprobrious cry to 
unpopular statesmen, in the streets and on the 
hustings, was, ' Who stole the eleven days ? 
Give VTS back the eleven daj's ! ' 

Near Malwood Castle, in Hampshire, there 
was an oak tree which was believed to bud every 

Christmas, in honour of Him who was born on 
that day. The people of the neighbourhood said 
they would look to this venerable piece of tim- 
ber as a test of the propriety of the change of 
style. They would go to it on the new Christ- 
mas Day, and see if it budded : if it did not, 
there could be no doubt that the new style was 
a monstrous mistake. Accordingly, on Christmas 
Day, new style, there was a great flocking to 
this old oak, to see how the question was to be 
determined. On its being found that no bud- 
ding took jnace, the opponents of the new style 
triumphantly proclaimed that their view was 
approved by Divine wisdom — a point on which it 
is said they became still clearer, when, on the 
5th January, being old Christmas Day, the oak 
was represented as having given forth a few 
shoots. These people were unaware that, even 
although there were historical grounds for be- 
lieving that Jesus was born on the 25th of De- 
cember, we had been carried away from the 
observance of the true day during the three 
centuries which elapsed between the event and 
the Council of Nice. 

The change of style has indeed proved a sad 
discomfiture to aU ideas connected with particu- 
lar days and seasons. It was said, for instance, 
that March came in like a lion and went out like 
a lamb ; but the end of the March of which this 
was said, is in reality the 12th of April. Still 
more absurd did it become to hold All Saints' 
Eve (October 31) as a time on which the 
powers of the mystic world were in particular 
vigour and activity, seeing that we had been 
observing it at a wrong time for centuries. 
We had been continually for many centuries 
gliding away from the right time, and yet had 
not perceived any difference — a pretty good 
proof that the assumedly sacred character of 
the night was all empty delusion. 

In the Acta Sanctortun a curious legend is re- 
lated in connexion with the life of Kentigern, as 
to the fijiding of a lost ring. A queen, having 
formed an improper attachment to a handsome 
soldier, put upon his finger a precious ring which 
her own lord had conferred upon her. The king, 
made aware of the fact, but dissembling his 
anger, took an opportunity, in hunting, while the 
soldier lay asleep beside the Clyde, to snatch off 
the ring, and throw it into the river. Then 
returning home along with the soldier, he de- 
manded of the queen the ring he had given her. 
She sent secretly to the soldier for the ring, which 
could not be restored. In great terror, she then 
dispatched a messenger to ask the assistance of 
the holy Kentigern. He, who knew of the affair 
before being informed of it, went to the river 
Clyde, and having caught a salmon, took from its 
stomach the missing ring, which he sent to the 
queen. She joyfully went with it to the king, 
who, thinking he had wronged her, swore he 
would be revenged upon her accusers ; but she, 
affecting a forgiving temper, besought him to 
pardon them as she had done. At the same 
time, she confessed her error to Kentigern, and 





solemnly vowed to be more careful of lier con- 
duct in future.* 

In the armorial bearings of tlie see oi Glasgow, 
and now of the city. St Kentigern's tree with its 
bell forms the principal object, while its stem is 
crossed by the salmon of the legend, bearing m 
its mouth the ring so miraciilously recovered. 


Fabulous as this old church legend may ap- 
pear, it does not stand quite alone in the annals 
of the past. In Brand s History of Neiocastle, 
we find the particulars of a similar event which 
occurred at that city in or about the year 1559. 
A gentleman named Anderson — called in one 
account Sir Francis Anderson — fingering his 
ring as he was one day standing on the bridge, 
dropped the bauble into the Tyne, and of course 
gave it up as lost. After some time a servant of 
this gentleman bought a fish in Newcastle 
market, in the stomach of which the identical lost 
ring was found.f 

An occurrence remarkably similar to the above 
is related by Herodotus as happening to Poly- 
crates, after his great success in possessing him- 
self of the island of Samos. Amasis, king of 
Egypt, sent Polycrates a friendly letter, ex- 
pressing a fear for the continuance of his singular 
prosperity, for he had never known such an in- 
stance of felicity which did not come to calamity 
in the long run ; therefore advising Polycrates to 
throw away some favourite gem in such a way 
that he might never see it again, as a kind of 
charm against misfortune. Polycrates conse- 
quently took a valuable signet-ring — an emerald 
set in gold — and sailing away from the shore in a 
boat, threw this gem, in the sight of all on board, 
into the deep. ' This done, he returned home 
and gave vent to his sorrow. 

' Now it happened, five or six days afterwards, 
that a fisherman caught a fish so large and beau- 
tiful that he thought it well deserved to be made 
a present of to the king. So he took it with him 
to the gate of the palace, and said that he wanted 
to see Polycrates. Then Polycrates allowed him 
to come in, and the fisherman gave him the fish 
with these words following — " Sir king, when 
I took this prize, I thought I would not carry it 
to market, though I am a poor man who live by 

*Acta Sanctorum, i. 820. f Brand's Newcastle, i. 45. 

my trade. I said to myself, it is worthy of Poly- 
crates and his greatness ; and so I brought it 
here to give it you." The speech pleased the 
king, who thus spoke in reply : " Thou didst well, 
friend, and I am doubly indebted, both for the 
gift and for the speech. Come now, and sup with 
me." So the fisherman went home, esteeming it 
a high honom* that he had been asked to sup 
with the king. Meanwhile, the servants, on cut- 
ting open the fish, found the signet of their 
master in its beUy. No sooner did they see it 
than they seized upon it, and hastening to Poly- 
crates with great joy, restored it to him, and told 
him in what way it had been found. The king, 
who saw something providential in the matter, 
forthwith wrote a letter to Amasis, telling him 
all that had happened. . . . Amasis . . . perceived 
that it does not belong to man to save his fellow- 
man from the fate which is in store for him ; 
likewise he felt certain that Polycrates would end 
iU, as he prospered in everything, even finding 
what he had thrown away. So he sent a herald 
to Samos, and dissolved the contract of friend- 
ship. This he did, that when the great and heavy 
misfortune came, he might escape the grief which 
he would have felt Lf the suflferer had been his 
loved friend.'* 

In Scottish family history there are at least two 
stories of recovered rings, tending to support the 
possible verity of the Kentigern legend. The 
widow of Viscount Dundee — the famous Claver- 
house — was met and wooed at Colzium House, in 
Stirlingshire, by the Hon William Livingstone, 
who subsequently became Viscount Kilsyth. 
The gentleman gave the lady a pledge of atfection 
in the form of a ring, having for its posy, ' Youes 
ONLY AND EVEE.' She unluckily lost it in the 
garden, and it could not again be found ; which 
was regarded as an unlucky prognostic for the 
marriage that soon after took place. Nor was 
the prognostic falsified by the event, for not long 
after her second nuptials, while living in exile in 
Holland, she and her only child were killed by 
the fall of a house. Just a hundred years after, the 
lost ring was found in a clod in the garden ; and 
it has since been preserved at Colzium House. 
The other story is less romantic, yet curious, and 
of assured verity. A large silver signet ring was 
lost by Mr Murray of Pennyland, in Caithness, 
as he was walking one day on a shingly beach 
bounding his estate. Fully a century afterwards, 
it was found in the shingle, in fair condition, and 
restored to Mr Murray's remote heir, the present 
Sir Peter Murray Threipland of Fingask, baronet. 

Professor De Morgan, in Notes and Queries for 
December 21, 1861, relates an anecdote of a 
recovered ring nearly as wonderful as that 
connected with the life of Kentigern. He says 
he does not vouch for it ; but it was circulated 
and canvassed, nearly fifty years ago, in the 
country town close to which the scene is placed, 
with all degrees of belief and unbelief. 'A ser- 
vant boy was sent into the town with a valuable 
ring. He took it out of its box to admire it, and 
in passing over a plank bridge he let it fall on a 
muddy bank. Not being able to find it, he ran 
away, took to the sea, finally settled in a colony, 
made a large fortune, came back after many 
* Rawlinson's Translation of Herodotus, ii. 438. 




years, and bought the estate on which he had 
been servant. One day, while walking over his 
land with a friend, he came to the plank bridge, 
and there told his friend the story. " I could 
swear," said he, pushing his stick into the mud, 
" to the very spot on which the ring dropped." 
When the stick came back the rmg was on the 
end of it.' 

Wild Oats.— We are more famihar with wild oats in 
a moral than in a botanical sense ; yet in the latter it is 
an article of no small cmiosity. For one thing, it has 
a seK-inherent power of moving from one place to 
another. Let a head of it be laid down in a moist ened 
state upon a table, and left there for the night, and 
next morning it will be found to have walked off. 
The locomotive power resides in the pecidiar hard 
aivn or spike, which sets the grain a-tumbhng over 
and over, sideways. A very large and coarse kind of 
wild oats, brought many years ago from Otaheite, was 
foimd to have the ambidatory character in imcommon 
perfection. When ordinary oats is allowed by neglect 
to degenerate, it acquires this amoug other character- 
istics of wild oats. 


Sts Isaias and Sabbas, 273. St Barbasceminus, 346. 
St Hilary, B. 368. St Felix. 


St Hilarius lived in the fourth century, and 
the active and influential part of his life was 
passed under the Emperor Coustantius in the 
East, though he is included among the Fathers 
of the Western or Latin Church. He belonged to 
a family of distinction resident at Poitiers, in 
Gaid, and was brought up in paganism, but 
became a convert to Christianity, and in the year 
354 was elected bishop of Poitiers. The first 
general council, held at Nice (Nicsea) in Bithynia, 
in 325, under the Emperor Constantine, had con- 
demned the doctrine of Arius, but had not sup- 
pressed it ; and Hilarius, about thirty years after- 
wards, when he had made himself acquainted 
with the arguments, became an opponent of the 
Arians, who were then numerous, and were 
patronised by the Emperor Constantius. The 
council of Aj-les, held in 353, had condemned 
Athanasius and others, who were opponents of 
the Arian doctrine ; and H/l arius, in the council 
of Beziers, held in 356, defended Athanasius, in 
opposition to Saturninus, bishop of Aries. He was 
in consequence deposed from his bishopric by the 
Arians, and banished by Constantius to Phrygia. 
There he remained about four years, occupied in 
composing his principal work. On the Trinity, in 
twelve books. Hilarius, besides his twelve books 
On the Trinity, wrote a work On Synods ad- 
dressed to the bishops of Gaul and Britain, in 
which he gives an account of the various creeds 
adopted in the Eastern church subsequent to the 
council of Nice ; and he addressed three books 
to the Emperor Constantius, of whose religious 
opinions he was always an energetic and fearless 
opponent. He continued, indeed, from the time 
■when he became a bishop Hill the termination 
of his life in 368, to be zealously engaged in the 

Trinitarian controversy ; and the final triumph of 
the Nicene creed over the Arian may be attributed 
in a great degree to his energetic exertions. After 
the death of Constantius, in 361, he was restored 
to his bishopric, and returned to Poitiers, where 
he died. 

Bom. — Prince Adam Czartoryski, 1770. 

D/ed— Edward Lord Brnce, 1610; Dr John Boyse, 
translator of the Bible, 1643 ; Madame de Sevigne, 1696 ; 
Edmund Halley, astronomer, 1742 ; Dr George Berkeley, 
Bishop of Cloyne, 1753. 

A minute and interesting memoir of this 
eminent scholar, in Peck's Desiderata Cmnosa, 
makes us aware of his profound learning, his 
diligence in study, and his many excellences of 
character. Ultimately he was a prebendary of 
Ely ; but when engaged in his task of translating 
the Bible, he was only rector of Boxworth. Boyse 
was one of a group of seven scholars at Cam- 
bridge to whom were committed the Apocryphal 
books ; and when, after four years, this task was 
finished, he was one of two of that group sent to 
London to superintend the general revision. With 
other four learned men, Boyse was engaged for 
nine months at Stationers' Hall, in the business of 
revising the entire translation ; and it is not un- 
worthy of notice, as creditable to the trade of 
literature, that, while the task of translation 
passed unrewarded of the nation, that of revision 
was remunerated by the Company of Stationers 
sending each scholar thirty shillings a tceelc. The 
idea of a guerdon for literary exertion was then a 
novelty— indeed a thing scarcely known in Eng- 
land. . 

Boyse was employed with Sir Henry Savde in 
that serious task of editing Chrysostom, which 
led to a celebrated witticism on the part of Sir 
Hemy. Lady SavUe, complaining one day to her 
husband of his being so abstracted from her 
society by his studies, expressed a wish that she 
were a book, as she might then receive some part 
of his attention. 'Then,' said Sir Henry, 'I 
should have you to be an almanack, that I might 
change you every year.' She threatened to burn 
Chrysostom, who seemed tobekUlingher husband; 
whereupon Dr Boyse quietly remarked, 'That 
were a great pity, madam.' 'Why, who was 
Chrysostom ?' inquired she. ' One of the sweetest 
preachers since the Apostles' times,' he calmly 
answered. 'Then,' said she, corrected by his 
manner and words, ' I would not burn him for the 

Boyse lived to eighty-two, though generally 
engaged eight hours a day in study. He seems 
to have been wise before his time as to the manage- 
ment of his physical system under intellectual 
labour, and his practice may even yet be de- 
scribed with advantage. 'He made but two 
meals, dinner and supper;* betwixt which he 
never so much as drank, unless, upon trouble of 
flatulency, some small quantity of aqua-vitce and 
su^^ar. After meat he was careful, almost to 
curiosity, in picking and rubbing his teeth; 

* In the days of Elizabeth and the first James, few 
gentlemen took anything but a draught of ale by way of 
breakfast. _ ^^ 





estcominjj; that a special preservative of liealth ; 
by wliieli means ho earried to his tjrave almost a 
Hebrew alphabet of teeth [tweuty-two]. When 
that -was done, he used to sit or walk an hour or 
more, to digest his meat, before he would go to his 
study. . . . He would never study at all. in later 
years, between supper and bed ; which time, two 
hours at least, he would spend with his friends in 
discourse, hearing and telling harmless, delight- 
ful stories, whereof he was exceedingly full. . . . 
The posture of his body in studying was always 
standing, except when for ease he went upon his 
knees.' No modern physiologist could give a 
better set of rules than these for a studious life, 
excepting as far as absence of all reference to 
active exercise is concerned. 


This celebrated woman, who has the glory of 
being fully as conspicuous in the graces of style as 
any writer of her age, died, after a few days' ill- 
ness, at the town of Grignau. Her children 
were throughout life her chief object, and espe- 
cially her daughter, to her affection for whom 
we owe the greater part of that admirable collec- 
tion of Letters upon which the fame of Madame 
de Sevigne is raised. La Harpe describes them 
as ' the book of all hours, of the town, of the 
country, on travel. They are the conversations of 
a most agreeable woman, to which one need con- 
tribute nothing but one's own ; which is a great 
charm to an idle person.' 

Her Letters were not published till the eigh- 
teenth century, but they were written in the mid- 
day of the reign of Louis XIV. ' Their ease and 
freedom from aflectation,' says Hallam, ' are 
more striking by contrast with the two episto- 
lary styles which had been most admired in 
France — that of Balzac, which is laboriously 
tumid, and that of Voiture, which becomes in- 
sipid by dint of affectation. Everyone perceives 
that in the Letters of a Mother to her Daughter, 
the public, in a strict sense, is not thought of; 
and yet the habit of speaking and writing what 
men of wit and taste would desire to hear and 
read, gives a certain mannerism, I will not say 
air of effort, even to the letters of Madame de 
Sevigne. The abandonment of the heart to its 
casual impulses is not so genuine as in some that 
have since been published. It is at least clear 
that it is possible to become affected in copying 
her unaffected style ; and some of Walpole's 
letters bear witness to this. Her wit and talent 
of painting by single touches are very eminent ; 
scarcely any collection of letters, which contain 
so little that can interest a distant age, are read 
with such pleasure. If they have any general 
fault, it is a little monotony and excess of affection 
towards her daughter, which is reported to have 
wearied its object, and, in contrast with this, a 
little want of sensibility towards all beyond her 
immediate friends, and a readiness to find some- 
thing ludicrous in the dangers and sufferings of 
others.' Thus, in one letter she mentions that a lady 
of her acquaintance, having been bitten by a mad 
dog, had gone to be dipped in the sea, and amuses 
herself by taking off the provincial accent with 
which she will express herself on the first plunge. 
She makes a jest of La Voisin's execution, and 

thought that person was as little entitled to sym- 
pathy as any one ; yet, when a woman is burned 
alive, it is not usual for another woman to turn it 
into drollery. — Literature of Europe. 

Madame do Sevigne's taste has been arraigned 
for slighting Bacine ; and she has been cliarged 
with the unfortunate prediction : "LI passera 
comnie le cafe." But it has been denied that these 
words can be found, though few like to give up 
so diverting a miscalculation of futurity. 


Berkeley was a poet, as well as a mathema- 
tician and philosopher ; and his mind was not 
only well stored with professional and philoso- 
phical learning, but with information upon trade, 
agriculture, and the common arts of life. Having 
received benefit from the use of tar-water, when 
ill of the colic, he published a work on the Virtues 
of Tar-water, on which he said he had bestowed 
more pains than on any other of his productions. 
His last work, published but a few months 
before his death, was Further Thoughts on Tar- 
water ; and it shews his enthusiastic character, 
that, when accused of fancying he had discovered 
a panacea in tar-water, he replied, that ' to speak 
out, he freely owns he suspects tar-water is a 
panacea.' Walpole has taken the trouble to 
preserve, from the newspapers of the day, the 
following epigram on Berkeley's tar-water : 

' Who dare deride what pious Cloyne has done ? 
The Church shall rise and vindicate her son ; 
She tells us all her bishops shepherds are, 
And shepherds heal their rotten sheep with tar. ' 

In a letter written by Mr John Whishaw, 
solicitor. May 25, 1744, we find this account of 
Berkeley's panacea : ' The Bishop of Cloyne, in 
Ireland, has published a book, of two shillings 
price, vpon the excellencies of tar-water, which is 
to keep ye bloud in due order, and a great remedy 
in many cases. His way of making it is to put, 
I think, a gallon of water to a quart of tar, and 
after stirring it together, to let it stand forty-eight 
hours, and then pour off the clear and drink a 
glass of about half a pint in ye morn, and as much 
at five in ye afternoon. So it's become common 
to call for a glass of tar-water in a coffee-house, 
as a dish of tea or coffee.' 


On this day, in 1205, ' began a frost which con- 
tinued till the two and twentieth day of March, 
so that the ground could not be tilled ; whereof it 
came to pass that, in summer following, a quarter 
of wheat was sold for a mark of silver in many 
places of England, which for the more part in 
the days of King Henry the Second was sold for 
twelve pence ; a quarter of beans or peas for Iialf 
a mark ; a quarter of oats for forty pence, that 
were wont to be sold for fourpence. Also the 
money was so sore clipped that there was no 
remedy but to have it renewed.' — Stoive's Chro- 

It has become customary in England to look 
to St Hilary's Day as the coldest in the year; 
perhaps from its being a noted day about the 




middle of the notedly coldest montli. It is, how- 
ever, just possible that the commencement of the 
exti-aordinary and fatal frost of 1205, on this day, 
may have had something to do with the notion ; 
and it may be remarked, that in 1820 the 14th 
of January n^as the coldest day of the year, one 
gentleman's thermometer falling to four degrees 
Fahrenheit below zero. On a review of the 
greatest frosts in the English chronicles, it 
can only be observed that they have for the 
most part occurred throughout January, and 
only, in general, diverge a little into December 
on the one hand, and February on the other. 
Yet one of the most remarkable of modern frosts 
began quite at the end of January. 

it was at that time in 1814 that London last 
saw the Thames begin to be so firmly frozen as to 
support a multitude of human beings on its surface. 
For a month following the 27th of the previous 
December, there had been a strong frost in Eng- 
land. A thaw took place on the 26th January, 
and the ice of the Thames came down in a huge 
'pack,' which was suddenly arrested between the 
bridges by the renewal of the frost. On the 31st 
the ice pack was so iirmly frozen in one mass, 
that people began to pass over it, and next day 
the footing appeared so safe, that thousands of 
persons ventured to cross. Opposite to Queen- 
hithe, where the mass appeared most solid, up- 
wards of thirty booths were erected, for the sale 
of liquors and viands, and for the playing of 
skittles. A sheep was set to a fire in a tent 
upon the ice, and sold in shilling slices, imder the 

a])-pe\\a.tion o{ Lccjyhtnd mutto?!. Musicians came, 
and dances were effected on the rough and slip- 
pery surface. What with the gay appearance of 
the booths, and the quantity of favourite popular 
amusements going on, the scene was singularly 
cheerful and exciting. On the ensuing day, faith 
in the ice having increased, there were vast multi- 
tudes upon it between the London and Blackfriars' 
Bridges ; the tents for the sale of refreshments, 
and for games of hazard, had largely multiplied ; 
swings and merry-go-rounds were added to 
skittles ; in short, there were all the appearances 
of a Greenwich or Bartholomew Fair exhibited 
on this frail surface, and Frost Fair was a term 
in everybody's mouth. Amongst those who 
strove to make a trade of the occasion, none were 
more active than the humbler class of printers. 
Their power of producing an article capable of 
preservation, as a memorial of the affair, brought 
them in great numbers to the scene. Their 
principal business consisted, accordingly, in the 
throwing off of little broadsides referring to 
Frost Fair, and stating the singular circum- 
stances under which they were produced, in 
rather poor verses — such as the following : 

' Amidst the arts which ou the Thames appear, 
To tell the wonders of this icy year, 
Printing claims prior place, which at one view 
Erects a mouument of that and you.' 

Another peculiarly active corps was the ancient 
fraternity of Avatermen, who, deserting their 
proper trade, contrived to render themselves ser- 


viceable by making convenient accesses from the 
landings, for which they charged a moderate toll. 
It was reported that some of these men realized 
as much as ten pounds a day by this kind of 

All who remember the scene describe it as 
having been singular and picturesque. It was 
not merely a white icy plain, covered with flag- 
bearing booths and lively crowds. The peculiar 
circumstances under which this part of the river 

had finally been frozen, caused it to appear as a 
variegated ice country — hill and dale, and devious 
walk, all mixed together, with human beings 
thronging over every bit of accessible surface. 

After Frost Fair had lasted with increasing 
activity for four days, a killing thaw came with 
the Saturday, and most of the traders who pos- 
sessed any prudence struck their flags and de- 
parted. Many, reluctant to go while any cus- 
tomers remained, held on past the right time, 





and towards evening there was a strange medley 
of tents, and merry-go-rounds, and printing 
presses seen lloating about on detached masses of 
ICC, beyond recoveiy of their dismayed owners, 
who had themselves barely escaped with life. 
A large refreshment booth, belonging to one 
Lawrence, a publican of Queenhithe, which had 
been placed opposite Brook's Wharf, was floated 
oil" by the rising tide, at an early hour on Sunday 
morning, with nine men in the interior, and was 
borne with violence back towards Blackfriars' 
Bridge, catching fire as it went. Before the con- 
flagration had gone far, the whole mass was 
dashed to pieces on one of the piers of the bridge, 
and the men with difficulty got to land. A vast 
number of persons suffered immersion both on 
this and previous days, and three men were 
drowned. By Monday nothing was to be seen 
where Frost Fair had been, but a number of 
ice-boards swinging lazily backwards and for- 
wards under the impulse of the tide. 

There has been no recurrence of Frost Fair 
on the Thames from 1814 down to the present 
year (1861) ; but it is a phenomenon which, as a 
rule, appears to recur several times each centuiy. 
The next previous occasion was in the winter of 
1788-9; the next again in January 1740, when 
people dwelt in tents on the Thames for weeks. 
In 1715-16, the river was thickly frozen for seve- 
ral miles, and became the scene of a popular 
fete resembling that just described, with the 
additional feature of an ox roasted whole for the 
regalement of the people. The next previous 
instance was in January 1684. There was then 
a constant frost of seven weeks, producing ice 
eighteen inches thick. A contemporary, John 
Evelyn, who was an eye-witness of the scene, 
thus describes it : 

' The frost continuing, more and more severe, 
the Thames, before London, was still planted 
with booths in formal streets, all sorts of trades 
and shops, furnished and full of commodities, 
even to a printing press, where the people and 
ladies took a fancy to have their names printed, 
and the day and the year set down when pro- 
duced on the Thames : this humour took so 
universally, that it was estimated the printer 
gained five pounds a day, for printing a line 
only, at sixpence a name, besides what he got by 
ballads, &c. Coaches plied from Westminster 
to the Temple and from other stairs, to and fro, 
as in the streets ; sheds, sliding with skates, or 
hull-baiting, horse and coach races, puppet-shows 
and interludes, cooks, tippling and other lewd 
places ; so that it seemed to be a bacchanalian 
triumph or carnival on the water : while it was a 
severe judgment on the land, the trees not only 
splitting as if lightning-struck, but men and 
cattle perishing in divers places, and the very 
seas so locked up with ice, that no vessels could 
stir out or come in ; the fowls, fish, and birds, 
and all our exotic plants and greens, universally 
perishing. Many parks of deer were destroyed ; 
and all sorts of fiiel so dear, that there were 
great contributions to keep the poor alive. Nor 
was this severe weather much less intense in 
most parts of Europe, even as far as Spain iu the 
most southern tracts. 

' London, by reason of the excessive coldness 

of the air hindering the ascent of the smoke, 
was so filled with the fuliginous stream of the 
sea-coal, that hardly could any one see across 
the streets ; and this filling of the lungs with the 
gross particles exceedingly obstructed the breath, 
so as one could scarcely breathe. There was no 
water to be had from the pipes or engines ; nor 
could the brewers and divers other tradesmen 
work ; and every moment was full of disastrous 

King Charles II. visited the diversions on the 
Thames, with other personages of the royal 
family ; and the names of the party were printed 
upon a quarto piece of Dutch paper, within a 
type border, as follows : 

Chaeles, King. 
James, Duke. 
Katheeine, Queek. 
Maey, Duchess. 
Anne, Peincess. 
George, Peince. 
Hans in Kildee. 
London: Printed by G-. Croome, on the 
Ice on the River of Thames, Jan. 31, 

Hollinshed describes a severe frost as occur- 
ring at the close of December 1564 : ' On New 
Year's even,' he says, ' people went over and 
along the Thames on the ice from London 
Bridge to Westminster. Some played at the 
foot-ball as boldly there as if it had been on dry 
land. Divers of the court, being daUy at West- 
minster, shot daily at pricks set upon the 
Thames ; and the people, both men and women, 
went daily on the Thames in greater number 
than in any street of the city of London. On 
the 3d day of January it began to thaw, and on 
the 5th day was no ice to be seen between 
London Bridge and Lambeth ; which sudden thaw 
caused great floods and high waters, that bare 
down bridges and houses, and drowned many 
people, especially in Yorkshire.' 

A protracted frost necessarily deranges the 
lower class of employments in such a city as 
London, and throws many poor persons into des- 
titution. Just as sure as this is the fact, so sure 
is it that a vast horde of the class who system- 
atically avoid regular work, preferring to live by 
their wits, simulate the characteristic appearances 
of distressed labourers, and try to excite the 
charity of the better class of citizens. Investing 
themselves in aprons, clutching an old spade, and 
hoisting as their signal of distress a turnip on 
the top of a pole or rake, they will wend their 
way through the west-end streets, proclaiming 
themselves in sepulchral tones &?. Frozen-out Gar- 
deners, or simply calling, ' HaU frozen hout !' or 
chanting ' We've got no work to do ! ' The faces 
of the corps are duly dolorous ; but one can 
nevertheless observe a sharp eye kept on the 
doors and windows they are passing, in order 
that if possible they may arrest some female 
gaze on which to practise their spell of pity. It 
is alleged on good grounds that the generality of 




these victims of the frost are impostors, and that 
their daily gatherings will often amount to 
double a skilled workman's wages. Nor do they 

usually discontinue the trade till long after the 
return of milder airs has liquidated even real 
claims upon the public sympathy. 



When, like a sullen exile driven forth. 
Southward, December drags his icy chain, 
He graves fair pictures of his native North 
On the crisp window-pane. 

So some pale captive blurs, with lips tmshorn, 
The latticed glass, and shapes nxde outhnes there, 
"With listless finger and a look forlorn, 
Cheating his didl despair. 

The fairy fragments of some Arctic scene 
I see to-night ; blank wastes of polar snow. 
Ice-laden bonghs, and feathery pines that lean 
Over ravines below. 

Black frozen lakes, and icy peaks blown bare, 
Break the white surface of the crusted pane. 
And spear-like leaves, long ferns, and blossoms fair 
Linked in silvery chain. 

Draw me, I pray thee, by this slender thread ; 
Fancy, thou sorceress, bending vision-wrought 
O'er that dim well perpetually fed 

By the clear springs of thought ! 

Northward I turn, and tread those dreary strands, — 
Lakes where the wild fowl breed, the swan abides ; 
Shores where the white fox, bvirrowing in the sands, 
Harks to the droning tides. 

And seas, where, drifting on a raft of ice, 
The she-bear rears her young ; and cliffs so high, 
The dark-winged birds that emulate their rise 
Melt through the pale blue sky. 

There, all night long, with far diverging rays. 
And stalking shades, the red Auroras glow ; 
From the keen heaven, meek suns with paUid blaze 
Light up the Arctic snow. 

Guide me, I pray, along those waves remote, 
That deep unstartled from its primal rest ; 
Some errant sail, the fisher's lone hght boat 
Borne waif-hke on its breast ! 

Lead me, I pray, where never shallop's keel 
Brake the dull ripples throbbing to their caves ; 
AVhere the mailed glacier with his armed heel 
Spurs the resisting waves ! 

Paint me, I pray, the phantom hosts that hold 
Celestial tourneys when the midnight calls ; 
On airy steeds, with lances bright and bold, 
Storming her ancient halls. 

Yet, while I look, the magic picture fades ; 
Melts the bright tracery from the frosted pane ; 
Trees, vales, and cliffs, in sparklmg snows arrayed, 
Dissolve in silvery rain . 

Without, the day's pale glories sink and swell 
Over the black rise of yon wooded height ; 
The moon's thin crescent, hke a stranded shell. 
Left on the shores of night. 

Hark how the north wind, with a hasty hand, 
Rattling my casement, frames his mystic rhyme. 
House thee, rude minstrel, chanting through the land. 

Fames of the olden times.* 
* By Edith May, in Hale's Selections from Female 
Writers. 1853. 





The 11 til of January 1858 Tras made memor- 
alile in France by an attempt at regicide, most 
diabolical in its character, and j^et the project of 
a man who appears to have been by no means 
devoid of virtue and even benevolence. It Avas, 
however, the tliird time that what the French 
call an Infernal Machine was used in the streets 
of Paris, for regicidal purposes, within the present 

The first was a Bonrbonist contrivance directed 
against the life of the First Consul Bonaparte. 
' Tills machine,' says Sir Walter Scott, in 
his Life of Napoleon, ' consisted of a barrel of 
gunpowder, placed on a cart, to which it was 
stronglv secured, and charged with grape- 
shot, so disposed around the barrel as to be dis- 
persed in every direction by the explosion. The 
fire was to be communicated by a slow match. 
It was the purpose of the conspirators, iinde- 
terred by the indiscriminate slaughter which such 
a discharge must occasion, to place the machine 
in the street, through which the First Consul must 
go to the opera ; having contrived that it should 
explode exactly as his carriage should pass the 
spot.' Never, during all his eventful life, had 
Napoleon a narrower escape than on this 
occasion, on the 14th of December 1800. St 
Eegent applied the match, and an awful explo- 
sion took place. Several houses were damaged, 
twenty persons were killed on the spot, and fifty- 
three wounded, including St Hegent himself. 
Napoleon's carriage, however, had just got be- 
yond the reach of harm. This atrocity led to 
the execution of St Eegent, Carbon, and other 

Fieschi's attempt at regicide in 1835 was more 
elaborate and scientific ; there was something of 
the artillery officer in his mode of proceeding, 
although he was in truth nothing but a scamp. 
Fieschi hired a front room of a house in Paris, in 
a street through which royal corteges were some- 
times in the habit of passing ; he proceeded to 
construct a weapon to be fired off through the 
open window, on some occasion when the king 
was expected to pass that way. He made a strong- 
frame, supported by four legs. He obtained 
twenty-five musket barrels, which, he ranged with 
their butt ends raised a little higher than the muz- 
zles, in order that he might fire doicnwards, from 
a first floor window into the street. The barrels 
were not ranged quite parallel, but were spread 
out slightly like a fan ; the muzzles were also 
not all at the same height ; so that by this 
combined plan he obtained a sweep of fire, both 
in height and breadth, more extensive than he 
would otherwise have obtained. Every year 
during Louis Philippe's reign there were cer- 
tain days of rejoicing in July, in commemora- 
tion of the circumstances which placed him on 
the throne. On the 28th, the second day of the 
festival in 1835, a royal cortege was proceeding 
along this particular street, the Boulevard du 
Temple. Fieschi adjusted his machine, heavily 
loaded with ball (four to each barrel), and con- 
nected the touch-holes of all his twenty-five 
barrels with a train of gunpowder. He had a 
blind at his window, to screen his operations 

from view. Just as the cortege arrived, he raised 
his blind and fired, when a terrific scene was 
presented. Marshal Mortier, General de Verigny, 
the aide-de-camp of Marshal Maison, a colonel, 
several grenadiers of the Guard, and several by- 
standers, were killed, while the wounded raised 
the number of sufferers to nearly forty. In this, 
as in many similar instances, the person aimed at 
escaped. One ball grazed the king's arm, and 
another lodged in his horse's neck : but he and 
his sons were in other respects unhurt. Fieschi 
was executed ; and his name obtained for some 
years that kind of notoriety w'hich Madame 
Tussaud could give it. 

We now come to the attempt of Orsini and his 
companions. A Birmingham manufacturer was 
commissioned to make six missiles according to a 
particular model. The missile was of oval shape, 
and had twenty-five nipples near one end, with 
percussion caps to fit them. The greatest thick- 
ness and weight of metal were at the nipple end, 
to ensure that it should come foremost to the 
ground. The inside was to be filled with deto- 
nating composition, such as fulminate of mer- 
cury ; a concussion would explode the caps on 
the nipples, and communicate the explosion to the 
fulminate, which, would burst the iron shell into 
innumerable fragments. A Frenchman residing 
in London bought alcohol, mercury, and nitric acid ; 
made a detonating compound from these materials, 
and filled the shells with it. Then ensued a very 
complicated series of manceuvres to get the con- 
spirators and the shells to Paris, without exciting 
the suspicion of the authorities. On the evening 
of the 14th of January 1858, the Emperor and 
Empress were to go to the opera ; and Orsini 
and bis confederates prepared for the occasion. 
At night, while the imperial carriage was passing, 
three explosions were heard. Several soldiers 
were wounded ; the Emperor's hat was per- 
forated ; General Roquet was slightly wounded 
in the neck ; two footmen were wounded while 
standing behind the Emperor's carriage ; one 
horse was killed ; the carriage was severely 
shattered ; and the explosion extinguished most 
of the gas-lights near at hand. The Emperor, 
cool in the midst of danger, proceeded to the 
opera as if nothing had happened. When the 
police had sought out the cause of this atrocity, 
it was ascertained that Orsini, Pierri, Eudio, and 
Gomez were all on the spot ; three of the shell- 
grenades had been thrown by hand, and two 
more were found on Orsini and Pierri. The 
fragments of the three shells had inflicted the 
frightful number of more than five hundred 
wounds — Orsini himself had been struck by one 
of the pieces. Eudio and Gomez were con- 
demned to the galleys ; Orsini and Pierri were 
executed. Most readers will remember the ex- 
citing political events that followed this affair in 
England and France, nearly plunging th.e two 
countries into war. 

Formerly, the Feast of the Ass was celebrated 
on this day, in commemoration of the ' Flight 
into Egypt.' Theatrical representions of Scrip- 
ture history were originally intended to impress 




religious truths upon tlie minds of an illiterate 
people, at a period when books were not. and few 
could read. But the advantages resulting from 
this mode of instruction were counterbalanced 
by the numerous ridiculous ceremonies which 
they originated. Of these probably none ex- 
ceeded in grossness of absurdity the Festival of 
the Ass, as annually performed on the 14th of 
January. The escape of the Holy Family into 
Egypt was represented by a beautiful girl hold- 
ing a child at her breast, and seated on an ass, 
splendidly decorated with trappings of gold-em- 
broidered cloth. After having been led in solemn 
procession through the streets of the city in which 
the celebration was held, the ass, with its bur- 
den, was taken into the principal church, and 
placed near the high altar, while the various re- 
ligious services were performed. In place, how- 
ever, of the usual responses, the people on this 
occasion imitated the braying of an ass ; and, at 
the conclusion of the service, the priest, instead 
of the usual benediction, brayed three times, and 
was answered by a general hee-hawing from the 
voices of the whole congregation. A hymn, as ridi- 
culous as the ceremony, was sungby a double choir, 
the people joining in the chorus, and imitating 
the braying of an ass. Ducange has preserved 
this burlesque composition, a curious medley 
of French and mediaeval Latin, which may be 
translated thus : 

' From the coimtry of the East, 
Came this strong and handsome beast : 
This able ass, beyond compare, 
Heavy loads and packs to bear. 
Now, seignior ass, a nohle bray, 
Thy beauteous mouth at large display; 
Abundant food our hay-lofts yield, 
And oats abundant load the field. 
Hee-haw ! He-haw ! He-haw ! 

' True it is, his pace is slow, 
Till he feels the quickening blow ; 
Till he feel the urging goad. 
On his hinder part bestowed. 
Now, seignior ass, &c. 

' He was born on Shechem's hill ; 
In Reuben's vales he fed his fill; 
He drank of Jordan's sacred stream. 
And gambolled in Bethlehem. 
Now, seignior ass, &c. 

' See that broad majestic ear ! 

Born he is the yoke to wear : 

All his fellows he surpasses ! 

He 's the very lord of asses ! 

Now, seignior ass, &c. 

' In leaping he excels the fawn. 
The deer, the colts upon the lawn ; 
Less swift the dromedaries ran, 
Boasted of in Midian. 
Now, seignior ass, &c. 

* Gold from Araby the blest, 
Seba myiTh, of myrrh the best, 
To the cliurch this ass did bring; 
We his sturdy laboiu-s sing. 
Now, seignior ass, &c. 

' While he draws the loaded wain, 
Or many a pack, he don't complain. 
With his jaws, a noble pair, 
He doth craunch his homely fare. 

Now, seignior ass, &c. 

' The bearded barley and its stem. 
And thistles, yield his fill of them : 
He assists to separate, 
When it 's thi-eshed, the chafif from wheat. 

Now, seignior ass, &c. 

' With yom- beUy fidl of gi'ain. 
Bray, most honoured ass. Amen ! 
Bray out loudly, bray again, 
Never mind the old Amen ; 
Without ceasing, bray again. 
Amen ! Amen ! Amen ! Amen ! 
Hee-haw ! He-haw ! He-haw ! ' 

The ' Festival of the Ass,' and other religious 
burlesques of a similar description, derive their 
origin from Constantinople ; being instituted by 
the Patriarch Theophylact, with the design of 
weaning the people's minds from pagan cere- 
monies, particiilarly the Bacchanalian and calen- 
dary observances, by the substitution of Chris- 
tian spectacles, partaking of a similar spirit of 
licentiousness, — a principle of accommodation to 
the manners and prejudices of an ignorant people, 
which led to a still further adoption of rites, 
more or less imitated from the pagans. Accord- 
ing to the pagan mythology, an ass, by its 
braying, saved Vesta from brutal violence, and, 
in consequence, ' the coronation of the ass ' 
formed a part of the ceremonial feast of the 
chaste goddess. 

An elaborate sculpture, representing a kneel- 
ing ass, in the church of St Anthony at Padua, 
is said to commemorate a miracle that once took 
place in that city. It appears that one morning, 
as St Anthony was carrying the sacrament to a 
dying person, some profane Jews refused • to 
kneel as the sacred vessels were borne past 
them. But they were soon rebuked and put to 
contrition and shame, by seeing a pious ass kneel 
devoutly in honour of the host. The Jews, con- 
verted by this miracle, caused the sculpture to 
be erected in the church. It takes but little to 
make a miracle. The following anecdote, told 
by the Rev John Wesley, in his Journal, would, 
in other hands, have made a very good one. 
' An odd circumstance,' says Mr Wesley, ' hap- 
pened at Eotherham during the morning preach- 
ing. It was well only serious persons were 
present. An ass walked gravely in at the gate, 
came up to the door of the house, lifted up his 
head, and stood stock still, in a posture of deep 
attention. Might not the dumb beast reprove 
many, who have far less decency, and not much 
more understanding ? ' 

A somewhat similar asinine sensibility was 
differently displayed in the presence of King 
Henry IV. of France — the ass, on this occasion, 
not exhibiting itself as a dumb animal. When 
passing through a small town, just as the King 
was getting tired of a long stupid speech de- 
livered by the mayor, an ass brayed out loudly ; 
and Henry, with the greatest gravity and polite- 
ness of tone, said : ' Pray, gentlemen, speak one 
at a time, if you please.' 

Iltltlkrh gag. 

The I'lth of January is celebrated in All 
Souls College, Oxford, by a great merrymaking, 





in commemoration of the finding of an overgrown 
mallard in a drain, wlien they were digging a 
fonndation for the college buildings, anno 1437. 

The following extract from a contemporary 
chronicle gives' an account of the incident: 
•Whouas Henrye Chichele, the late renowned 
archbisiiope of Cautorberye. had minded to 
founden a collidge in Oxenforde, for the hele of 
his soule and the soules of all those whoperyshed 
in the warres of Fi'aunce, fighteing valiautlye 
under our most gracious Henrye the fifthe, 
moche Avas he distraughten concerning the pkce 
he myghte choose for thilke purpose. Him 
thinkyth some whylest how he myghte place it 
withouten the eastern porte of the citie, both for 
the pleasauntnesse of the meadowes and the 
clere sti'eamys therebye runninge. Agen him 
thinkyth odir whylest howe he mote builden it 
on the northe side for the heleful ayre there 
coming from the fieldes. Nowe while he doubteth 
thereon he dremt, and behold there appereth 
unto him one of righte godelye personage, say- 
inge and adviseing as howe he myghte placen his 
collidge in the highe strete of the citie, nere 
unto the chirche of our blessed ladie the Virgine, 
and in witnesse that it was sowthe, and no vain 
and deceitful phantasie, wolled him to laye the 
first stane of the foundation at the corner which 
tui-neth towards the Cattys Strete, where in 
delvinge he myghte of a suretye finde a schwop- 
pinge mallarde imprisoned in the sinke or sewere, 
wele yfattened and almost ybosten. Sure token 
of the thrivaunce of his future college. 

' Moche doubteth he Avhen he awoke on the 
natiu'e of this vision, whethyr he mote give hede 
thereto or not. Then advisyth he there with 
monie docters and learnyd clerkys, who all seyde 
howe he oughte to maken trial upon it. Then 
comyth he to Oxenforde, and on a daye fixed, 
after masse seyde, proceedeth he in solemnee 
wyse, with spades and pickaxes for the nonce 

{)rovided, to the place afore spoken of. But 
ong they had not digged ere they herde, as it 
myghte seme, within the wam of the erthe, hor- 
rid strugglinges and flutteringes, and anon violent 
quaakinges of the distressyd mallarde. Then 
Chichele lyfteth up his hondes and seyth Bene- 
dicite, &c. &c. Wowe when they broughte him 
forth, behold the size of his bodie was as that of 
a bustarde or an ostridge. And moch wonder 
was thereat ; for the lycke had not been scene in 
this londe, ne in onie odir.' 

"We obtain no particulars of the merrymaking 
beyond a quaint song said to have been long sung 
on the occasion : 


' Griffin, bustard, tm-key, capon, 
Let other hungry mortals gape on ; 
Afld on the bones their stomach fall hard, 
But let All Souls' men have their mallard. 
Oh ! by the blood of King Edward,* 
Oh ! by the blood of King Edward, 
It was a woppmg, woppmg ilallaed, 
' The Romans once admired a gander 
ilore than they did their chief commander ; 

* The allusion to King Edward is surely an anachron- 
ism, as King Henry VI. was reigning at the time of the 
foundation of this college. 

Because he saved, if some don't fool us, 
The i)lace that 's called th' head of Tolus. 
Oh ! by the blood, &c. 

' The poets feign Jove tvu'ned a swan, 
But lot them prove it if they can ; 
As for our proof, 'tis not at all hard. 
For it was a wopping, wo^tping mallard. 
Oh ! by the blood, &c. 

' Therefore let lis sing and dance a galliard, 
To the remembrance of the mallard : 
And as the mallard dives in jjool. 
Let VIS dabble, dive, and duck in bowl. 
Oh ! by the blood of King Edward, 
Oh ! by the blood of King Edward, 
It was a wopping, woj)puig mallard.' 


In the north aisle of the cloister of Worcester 
Cathedral is a sepulchral slab, which bears only 
the word Miseeeimus, expressing that a most 
miserable but unknown man reposes below. The 
most heedless visitor is arrested by this sad voice 
speaking, as it were, from the ground ; and it is 
no wonder that the imaginations of poets and 
romancists have been awakened by it : 

' " Miserrimus ! " and neither name nor date. 

Prayer, text, or symbol, graven upon the stone ; 
Nought but that word assigned to the unknown, 
That solitary word — to separate 
From aU, and cast a cloud around the fate 
Of him who bes beneath. Most wi-etched one ! 
TFAo chose his epitaph ? — -Himself alone 
Coidd thus have dared the grave to agitate, 
And claim among the dead this awful crown ; 
Nor doubt that he marked also for his own. 
Close to these cloistral steps, a burial-place, 
That every foot might fall with heavier tread, 
Trampling upon his vileness. Stranger, pass 
Softly ! — To save the contrite Jesus bled ! ' 

There has of course been much speculation 
regarding the identity of Miserrimus : even a 
novel has been written upon the idea, containing 
striking events and situations, and replete with 
pathos. It is alleged, however, that the actual 
person was no hero of strikingly unhappy story, 
l3ut only a ' Eev Thomas Morris, who, at the 
Revolution refusing to acknowledge the king's 
supremacy [more probably refusing to take the 
oaths to the new monarch], was deprived of his 
Ijreferment, and depended for the remainder of 
his life on the benevolence of different Jacobites.' 
At his death, viewing merely, we suppose, the 
extreme indigence to which he was reduced, and 
the humiliating way in which he got his living, 
he ordered that the only inscription on his tonib 
should be — Miseeeimus ! * 

Such freaks are not unexampled, and we can- 
not be always sure that there is a real corres- 
pondence between the inscription and the fact. 
For instance, a Mr Francis Cherry of Shottes- 
brooke, who died September 23, 1713, had his 
grave inscribed with no other words than Hic 
JACET peccatoetjm maximus (Here lies the Chief 
of Sinners), the truth being, if we are to be- 
lieve his friend Hearne, that he was an upright 
and amiable man, of the most unexceptionable 
religious practice — in Hearne's own words, ' one 

* Britton's Cathedral Antiquities, quoting Lees's Wor- 
cestershire Miscellany. 



of tlie most learned, modest, liumble, and virtuous 
persons that I ever liad the honour to be ac- 
quainted with.'* 

The writer can speak on good authority of 
a similar epitaph which a dying person of un- 
happy memory desired to be put upon his coffin. 
The person referred to was an Irish ecclesiastic 
who many years ago was obliged, in consequence 
of a dismal lapse, to become as one lost to the 
world. Fully twenty-five years after his wretched 
fall, an old and broken down man, living in an 
obscure lodging at ISTewington, a suburb of Edin- 
burgh, sent for one of the ScottishEpiscopal clergy, 
for the benefit of his ministrations as to a dying 

person. Mr F saw much in this aged man 

to interest him ; he seemed borne down with sor- 
row and penitence. It was tolerably evident 
that he shunned society, and lived under a feigned 

name and character. Mr F became convinced 

that he had been a criminal, but was not able to 
penetrate the mystery. The miserable man at 
length had to give some directions about his 
funeral — an evidently approaching event ; and he 
desired that the only inscription on his coffin 
should be ' a conteite sinner.' He was in due 
time deposited without any further memorial in 
Warriston Cemetery, near Edinburgh. 


St Paul, the First Hermit, 342. St Isidore, priest and 
hermit, c. 390. St Isidore, priest and hospitaller of Alex- 
andria, 403. St John Calybite, recluse, 450. St Maurus, 
abbot, 584. St Main, abbot. St Ita or Mida, virgin 
abbess, 569. St Bonitus, bishop of Auvergne, 710. 

Born. — Dr Samuel Parr, 1747, Harrow; Dr John 
Aikin, 1747, Knibsiuortk; Talma, Fi-ench tragedian, 1763, 
Paris; Thomas Crofton Croker, 1798. 

Z)je(f.— Father Paul Sarpi, 1623 ; Sir Philip Warwick, 


as a literary celebrity, occupied no narrow space 
in the eyes of our fathers. In our own age, he 
Las shrunk down into liis actual character of 
only a literary eccentricity. It seems almost 
incredible that, after his death in 1825, there 
should have been a republication of his Works — 
in eight volumes octavo. Successively an assistant 
at Harrow, and the proprietor of an academy at 
Stanmore, he was at the basis a schoolmaster, 
although he spent the better part of his life as 
perpetual curate of Hatton, and even attained 
the dignity of a prebendal stall in St. Paul's. 

It is related of Parr, that, soon after setting 
Tip at Stanmore, he found himself in need of a 
wife. By some kind friends, a person thought 
to be a suitable partner was selected for him ; 
but the union did not prove a happy one. It was 
remarked that he had wanted a housekeeper, and 
that the lady had wanted a house. She was of a 
good family in Yorkshire, an only child, who had 
been brought up by two maiden aunts, ' in 
rigidity and frigidity,' and she described her 

* Reliquias Hearnianse, i. 294. 

husband as having been 'born in a whirlwind, 
and bred a tyrant.' She was a clever woman 
and a voluble talker, and took a pleasure in ex- 
posing his foibles and peculiarities before com- 
pany. At Stanmore Dr Parr assumed the full- 
bottomed wig, which afterwards became a dis- 
tinguishing part of his full dress. The Eev 
Sydney Smith has given a humorous description 
of this ornament of his person : ' Whoever has 
had the good fortune to see Dr Parr's wig, must 
have observed, that while it trespasses a little on 
the orthodox magnitude of perukes in the ante- 
rior parts, it scorns even episcopal limits behind, 
and swells out into boundless convexity of frizz, 
the fieya davfia of barbers, and the terror of the 
literaiy world.' At Stanmore he abandoned 
himself to smoking, which became his habit 
through life. He would sometimes ride in pre- 
laticai pomp through the streets on a black 
saddle, bearing in his hand a long cane or wand, 
with an ivory head like a crosier. At other times 
he was seen stalking through the town in a dirty 
striped morning gown. 

In 1787 Dr Parr published, in conjunction with 
his friend the Rev Henry Homer, a new edition 
of Bellendenus De Statu. WUliam Bellenden 
was a learned Scotchman, who was a Professor 
in the University of Paris, and wrote in Latin 
a work in three books, entitled De Statu. Prin- 
cipis, De Statu BeipubliccE, and De Statu Prisci 
Orhis. The three books of this republication 
were dedicated respectively to Mr Burke, Lord 
North, and Mr Fox ; and Dr Parr prefixed a 
Latin Preface, exhibiting in high eulogistic relief 
the characters of those three statesmen, the 
' Tria Lumina Anglorum.' The book was pub- 
lished anonymously, and excited the cui'iosity of 
the literary world. Parr anticipated the fame 
which his preface would confer upon him. His 
vanity was excessive, and so obvious as frequently 
to expose him to ridicule. If the different pas- 
sages of his letters, in which he has praised himself, 
were collected together, they would make a book ; 
but the one which he wrote to Mr Homer, when 
he had completed the Preface to Bellendenus, 
contains an outburst of self-conceit and self- 
laudation, which is probably without a parallel. 
As such it is worth transcribing : 

' Dear Sir, — What will you say, or rather, what 
shall I say myself, of mygelf ? It is now ten 
o'clock at night, and I am smoking a quiet pipe, 
after a most vehement, and, I think, a most 
splendid effort of composition — an effort it was 
indeed, a mighty and a glorious effort; for the 
object of it is, to lift up Burke to the pinnacle 
where he ought to have been placed before, and 
to drag down Lord Chatham from that eminence 
to which the cowardice of his hearers, and, the 
credulity of the public, had most weakly and 
most undeservedly exalted the impostor and 
father of impostors. Read it, dear Harry ; read 
it, I say, aloud ; read it again and again ; and 
when your tongue has turned its edge from me 
to the father of Mr Pitt, when your ears tingle 
and ring with my sonorous periods, when your 
heart glows and beats with the fond and trium- 
phant remembrance of Edmund Burke — then, 
dear Homer, you will forgive me, you will love 
me, you wiU. congratulate me, and readdy wUl 





you take xipon yourself the trouble of printing 
what in writing has cost me much greater though 
not longer trouble. Old boy, I tell you that no 
part of the Preface is better conceived, or better 

wi-itten ; none will be read more eagerly, or felt 
by those whom you wish to feel it, more severely. 
Old boy, old boy, it is a stinger ; and now to 
other business,' &c. — Correspondence, vol. ii., 
p. 196. 

Soon after the death of Mr Fox, Dv Parr an- 
nounced his intention of publishing a life of the 
statesman whom he so mucli admired. The ex- 
pectations of the public were disappointed by the 
publication, in 1809, of Characters of the late 
Charles James Foot, selected, and in 2^o.rt written, 
hy Philopatris Varvicensis, two vols. 8vo. Of 
the first volume one hundred and seventy-five 
pages are extracted verhatim from public journals, 
periodical publications, speeches, and othor 
sources ; and of these characters the best is by 
Sir James Mackintosh ; next, a panegyric on 
Mr Fox by Dr Parr himself occupies one hun- 
dred and thirty-five pages. The second volume 
is entirely occupied by notes upon a variety of 
topics which the panegyric has suggested, such 
as the penal code, religious liberty, and others, 
plentifully inlaid with quotations from the 
learned languages. 
_ Dr Parr's knowledge on ecclesiastical, poli- 
tical, and literary subjects, was extensive, and 
his conversation was copious and animated. He 
had a great reputation in his day as a table- 
talker, although his utterance was thick, and his 
manner overbearing, and often violent. Sydney 
Smith, several years after Dr Parr's death, re- 
marked, that ' he would have been a more con- 
siderable man if he had been more knocked about 
among his equals. He lived with country gen- 

tlemen and clergymen, who flattered and feared 
him.' When he met with Dr Johnson, who was 
more than his equal, at Mr Langton's, as recorded 
in Boswell {Life, edited by Croker, royal Svo, 
p. 659), he was upon his good behaviour, and the 
Doctor praised him. ' Sir, I am much obliged to 
you for having asked me this evening. Parr is a 
fair man. I do not know when I have had an 
occasion of such free controversy. It is remark- 
able how much of a man's life may pass without 
meeting any instance of this kind of open dis- 

In the performance of his clerical duties Dr 
Parr was assiduous ; he was an advocate for 
more than the pomp and circumstance of the 
established forms of public worship. His wax 
I'audles were of unusual length and thickness, 
his communion-plate massive, and he decorated 
his church, at his own expense, with windows of 
]iainted glass. He had an extraordinary fond- 
ness for church-bells, and in order to furnish 
his belfry up to the height of his wishes he 
made many appeals to the liberality of his 
friends and correspondents. He himself writes, 
■ I have been importunate, and even impudent.' 
In one of his letters he intimates an intention of 
writing a work on Campanology ; but even if he 
had done so, he would hardly have reached the 
lieight of enthusiasm of Joannes Barbricius, 
who, in his book, De Coelo et Calesti Statti, 
Meutz, 1618, employs four hundred and twenty- 
five pages to prove that the principal employ- 
ment of the blessed in heaven will be the ringing 
of bells. 

His style, as a winter of English, is exceed- 
ingly artificial. Sydney Smith, in reviewing his 
Spital Sermon, preached in 1800, gives a descrip- 
tion of it which is generally applicable to all his 
compositions. ' The Doctor is never simple and 
natural for a single moment. Everything smells 
of the rhetorician. He never appears to forget 
himself, or to be hurried by his subject into ob- 
vious language Dr Parr seems to think 

that eloquence consists not in an exuberance of 
beautiful images, not in simple and sublime 
conceptions, not in the feelings of the passions, 
but in a studious arrangement of sonorous, exotic, 
and sesquipedal words.' He had a very high 
opinion of himself as a writer of Latin epitaphs, 
of which he composed about thirty. At a dinner, 
when Lord Erskine had delighted the company 
with his conversation, Dr Parr, in an ecstasy, 
called out to him, ' My Lord, I mean to write 
your epitaph.' Erskine, who was a younger 
man, replied, ' Dr Parr, it is a temptation to 
commit suicide.' The epitaph on Dr Johnson, 
inscribed on his monument in St Paul's Cathe- 
dral, was written by Dr Parr. At the end of the 
fourth volume of his works, is a long corres- 
pondence respecting this epitaph, between Parr, 
Sir Joshua Reynolds, M alone, and other friends 
of the deceased Doctor. The reader ' will be 
amused at the burlesqvie importance which Parr 
attaches to epitaph-writing.' — Croker. 

Dr Parr's handwriting was very bad. Sir 
WiUiam Jones writes to him — ' To speak plainly 
with you, your English and Latin characters are 
so badly formed, that I have infinite difficulty to 
read your letters, and have abandoned all hopes 



of deciplierinf; many of tliem. Your Greek is 
wholly illegible ; it is perfect algebra.'* 


Though Talma displayed in early boyhood a 
remarkable tendency to theatricals, his first 
attempt on a public stage, in 1783, was such as 
to cause his friends to discommend his pursuing 
the histrionic profession. It was not till a second 
attempt at the Theatre Fran^ais (four years 
later) that he fixed the public approbation. On 
the retirement of Lavire, he became principal 
tragedian at that establishment ; and no sooner 
was he launched in his career than his superior 
intellect began to work towards various reforma- 
tions of the stage, particularly in the depart- 
ment of costume. He is said to have been the 
first in his own country who performed the part 
of Titus in a lloman toga. 

Talma was an early acquaintance of the first 
Napoleon, then Captain Buonaparte, to whom he 
was first introduced in the green-room of the 
Theatre Fran9ais ; and he used to relate that, 
about this time, Buonaparte, being in great pecu- 
niary distress, had resolved to throw himself 
into the Seine, when he fortunately met with an 
old schoolfellow, who had just received a consi- 
derable sum of money, which he shared with the 
future emperor. ' If that warm-hearted com- 
rade,' said he, ' had accidentally passed down 
another street, the history of the next twenty 
years would have been written without the names 
of Lodi, Marengo, Aiisterlitz, Jena, Friedland, 
Moscow, Leipsig, and Waterloo.' 

"^Tien his friend Buonaparte was setting out 
on his expedition to Egypt, the great tragedian 
offered, in the warmth of his friendship, to 
accompany him ; but Napoleon would not listen 
to the proposal. ' Tabna,' said he, 'you must 
not commit such an act of foil}'. You have a 
brilliant course before you ; leave fighting to 
those who are unable to do anything better.' 
When Napoleon rose to be First Consul, his 
reception of Talma was as cordial as ever. When 
he in time became Emperor, the actor conceived 
that the intimacy would be sure to cease ; but he 
soon received a special invitation to the Tuileries. 

Talma was a man of cultivated mind, unerring 
taste, and amiable qualities. ' His dignity and 
tragic powers on the stage,' says Lady Morgan, 
' are curiously but charmingly contrasted with 
the simplicity, playfulness, and gaiety of his 
most unassuming, unpretending manners in pri- 
vate life.' He had long been married to a lady 
of fortune. He lived in affluence principally at 
his villa in the neighbourhood of Paris, whither, 
twice a week, he went to perform. 

Talma, when near his sixtieth year, achieved 
one of his greatest triumphs in Jouy's tragedy of 
Sylla. Napoleon had then (December, 1821) 
been dead only a few months. The actor, in 
order to recal the living image of his friend and 
patron, dressed his hair exactly after the Avell- 
remembered style of the deceased emperor, and 

* The Works of Samuel Parr, LL.D., Prebendary of 
St Paul's, Curate of Hatton, &c., with Memoirs of his 
Life and Writings, and a Selection from his Correspond- 
ence, by John Johnstone, M.D. 8 vols. 8vo, 1828. 

his dictator's wreath was a fac-simile of the 
laurel crown in gold which was placed upon 
Napoleon's brow at Notre Dame. The intended 
identity was recognised at once witli great ex- 
citement. The government thought of interdict- 
ing the play ; but Talma was privately directed 
to curl his hair in future, and adopt a new 
arrangement of the head. 

' Talma was taken ill at Paris, where he expired 
without pain, 19th October 1826. His majestic 
features have been preserved to us by David in 
marble. The body was borne to the cemetery of 
Pere la Chaise, attended by at least 100,000 
mourners ; and his friend, comrade, and rival. 
Lafont, placed upon the coffin a wreath of 
immortelles, and pronounced an affectionate fune- 
ral oration.' — Cole's Life of Charles Kean. 

Talma was no less honoured and esteemed by 
Louis XVIII. than by Napoleon. In 1825 he pub- 
lished some reflections on his favourite art; and, 
June 11, 1826, he appeared for the last time on 
the stage in the part of Charles VI. He is said 
altogether to have created seventy-one characters, 
the most popular of which were Orestes, CEdipus, 
Nero, Manlius, Csesar, Cinna, Augustus, Corio- 
lanus. Hector, Othello, Leicester, Sylla, Eegulus, 
Leonidas, Charles Yl., and Henry VIII. He 
spoke English perfectly ; he was the friend and 
guest of John Kemble, and was present in 
Covent Garden Theatre, when that great actor 
took his leave of the stage. 


' many to the steep of Highgate hie ; 

Ask, ye Boeotian shades ! * the reason why ? 
'Tis to the worship of the solemn Horn, 
Grasped in the holy hand of Mystery, 
In whose dread name both men and maids are sworn, 
And consecrate the oath with draught and dance till 
morn. ' Byeox. 

The poet here alludes to a curious old custom 
which has been the means of giving a little 
gentle merriment to many generations of the 
citizens of London, but is now fallen entirely 
out of notice. It was localised at Highgate, a 
well-known village on the north road, about five 
miles from the centre of the metropolis, and 
usually the last place of stoppage for stage 
coaches on their way thither. Highgate has 
many villas of old date clustering about it, 
wealthy people having been attracted to the 
place on account of the fine air and beautiful 
views which it derives from its eminent site: 
Charles Mathews had his private box here ; and 
Coleridge lived with Mr Gillman in one of the 
Highgate terraces. The village, however, was 
most remarkable, forty years ago, and at earlier 
dates, for the extraordinary number of its inns 
and taverns, haunts of recreation-seeking London- 
ers, and partly deriving support from the nume- 
rous travellers who paused there on their way to 

When Mr William Hone was publishing his 
Even/ Bay Boole in 1 826, he found there were no 
fewer than nineteen licensed houses of entertain- 
ment in this airy hamlet. The house of greatest 

* Byron wrote this verse in Thebes, the capital of 





dignity and lari^est accommodation was the Gate 
House, so called from the oriijinal building having 
been connected with a gate which here closed the 
road, and tVom which the name of the village is 
xmderstood to have been derived. Another hos- 
telry of old standing was ' The Bell.' There 
were also ' The Green Dragon,' ' The Bull,' ' The 
Angel.' ' The Crown.' ' The Flask,' &c. At every 
one of these public-houses there was kept a pair of 
horns, either ram's, bull's, or stag's, mounted on 
a stick, to serve in a burlesque ceremonial which 
time out of mind had been kept np at the 
taverns of Highgate, commonly called ' Swear- 
ing on the Horns.' It is believed that this 
custom took its rise at ' The Gatehouse,' and 
gradually spread to the other houses — perhaps 
was even to some extent a cause of other houses 
being set up, for it came in time to be an attrac- 
tion for jovial parties from London. In some 
cases there was also a pair of mounted horns 
over the door of the house, as designed to give 
the chance passengers the assurance that the 
merry ceremonial was there practised. 

And the ceremonial — in what did it consist ? 
Simply in this, that when any person passed 
through Highgate for the first time on his way to 
Loudon, he, being brought before the horns at 
one of the taverns, had a mock oath administered 
to him, to the effect that he would never drink 
small beer when he coidd get strong, unless he 
liked it better; that he would never, except on 
similar grounds of choice, eat brown bread when 
he could get white, or water-gruel when he could 
command turtle-soup ; that he would never make 
love to the maid when he might to the mistress, 
unless he preferred the maid; and so on with 
a number of things, regarding which the prefer- 
ableness is equally obvious. Such at least was 
the bare substance of the affair ; but of course 
there was room for a luxuriance of comicality, 
according to the wit of the imposer of the oath, 
and the simpHcity of the oath-taker ; and, as 
might be expected, the ceremony was not a dry 
one. Scarcely ever did a stage-coach stop at 
a Highgate tavern in those days, without a few of 
the passengers being initiated amidst the laughter 



of the rest, the landlord usually acting as high- 
priest on the occasion, while a waiter or an 
ostler would perform the duty of clerk, and 
sing out ' Amen' at all the proper places. 

Our artist has endeavoured to represent the 
ceremonial in the case of a simple countryman, 
according to the best traditionary lights that can 
now be had upon the subject. 

It is acknowledged that there were great 

differences in the ceremonial at different houses, 
some landlords having much greater command of 
wit than others. One who possessed the qualifi- 
cations more eminently than the rest, would give 
an address wai'ning the neophyte to avoid the 
allurements of the metropolis, in terms which 
provoked shouts of laughter from the bystanders. 
He would tell him. — if, on his next coming to 
Highgate, he should see three pigs lying in a 




ditcli, it was liia privilege to kick the middle one 
out and take her place ; if he wanted a bottle of 
wine and had no money, he might di'iuk one on 
credit if anybody felt inclined to trust him. He 
would also be told, at the end of the oath, to kiss 
the horns, or any pretty girl in the company who 
woidd allow him. Another part of the jocularity 
was to teU him to take notice of the first word of 
the oath — he must be sure to mind that. If he 
forgot that, he would be liable to have to take the 
oath over again. That, in short, was a word to 
him of infinite importance, a forgetting of which 
could not fail to be attended with troublesome 
consequences. The privileges of Highgate had 
always to be paid for in some liquor for the com- 
pany, according to the means and inclination of 
the person sworn. 

In those old unthinking days of merry Eng- 
land, societies and corporations and groups of 
work-people, who were admitting a new member 
or associate, would come out in a body to High- 
gate to have him didy sworn upon the Horns 
and enjoy an afternoon's merrymaking at his 
expense. If we can put faith in Byron, parties of 
young people of both sexes, under (it is to be 
hoped) proper superintendence, would dance 
away the night after an initiation at the Horns. 
Once a joke of that sort was established, it was 
wonderful what a great deal could be made of 
it, and how ill it was to wear out. For thirty 
years past, however, the Horns have disappeared 
from Highgate, and the taverns of that tidy 
village have now as grave an aspect as their 

With regard to the origin of the custom in 
connexion with Highgate, it seems impossible to 
obtain any light. Most probably the custom was 
long ago not an uncommon one at favoiu'ite inns, 
and only survived at Highgate when it had 
gone out elsewhere. The only historical fact 
which has been preserved regarding it, is that 
a song embodying the burlesque oath was intro- 
duced in a pantomime at the Haymarket Theatre 
in 1742. 


In the chronicles and records of the Middle 
Ages that have survived to us, we find many 
items of curious information relative to the supply 
in those days of what was, from the absence 
of the potato and other articles of food, even 
more than now, the staff of human life. We cull 
a few of these particulars for the information — 
and, we trust, also the amusement — of those 
among our readers who care to know something 
about the usages of the olden time. 

The bread that was in common use in England 
from five to six centuries ago, was of various 
degrees of fineness (or ' bolting,'* as it was called) 
and colour. The very finest and the whitest 
probably that was known, was simnel-hread, 
which (in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries 
at least) was as commonly known under the name 
of ^9a?7i-c?e?«a!/« (afterwards corrupted into ^^ay- 
man); a word which has given considerable trouble 

* From the bolter, bolting-siove, or bolting clot (cloth), 
as it was indifferently named. 

to Tyrrwhitt and other commentators upon 
Chaucer, but which means no more than ' bread 
of our Lord,' from the figure of our Saviour, or 
the Virgin Mary, impressed upon each round flat 
loaf, as is still the usage in Belgium with respect 
to certain rich cakes much admired there. This 
bread of course was only consumed by persons of 
the highest rank, and in the most aflluent. circum- 

The next in quality to this was wastcl bread, in 
common use among the more luxurious and more 
wealthy of the middle classes, and the name of 
which it seems not improbable is closely allied to 
the old French gasteau, ' a cake.' Nearly re- 
sembhng this in price and quality, though at 
times somewhat cheaper, was light bread, or puffe, 
also known as ' French bread,' or ' cochet,' 
tliough why it was called by the latter appella- 
tion is matter of doubt. Bread of a stUl inferior 
quality was also sometimes known as 'cocket;' 
and it seems far from improbable that it was so 
called from the word cocket, as meaning a seal, 
it being a strict regulation in London and else- 
where that each loaf (at aU events each loaf 
below a certain quality) should bear the impress 
of its baker's seal. The halfpenny loaf of simnel 
was at times of the same weight as the farthing 
loaf of wastel or pufF; the relative proportions, 
however, varied considerably at different periods. 

The next class of bread was tourte, made of 
unbolted meal, and the name of which has much 
puzzled the learned. It seems not improbable, 
however, that this kind of bread was originally 
so called from the loaves having a twisted form 
[torti), to distinguish them from those of a finer 
quality. Tourte was in common use with the 
humbler classes and the inmates of monas- 
teries. Trete bread, or bread of trete, was again 
an inferior bread to tourte, being made of wheat 
meal once bolted, or from which the fine flour at 
one sifting had been removed. This was also 
known as ' his,' or broicn bread, and probably 
owed its name to the fact of bran being so 
largely its constituent, that substance being still 
known in the North of England as ' trete.' An 
inferior bread to this seems to have passed under 
the name of all-sorts, or some similar appel- 
lation, being also known as black bread. It was 
made of various kinds of grain inferior to wheat. 

In the reign of Edward III. we find mention 
made of a light, or French, bread, made in 
London (and resembling simnel probably), and 
known by the name of ' wygge,' an appellation still 
given in Scotland to a kind of small cake. 
Another kind of white bread is also spoken of 
in the reigns of Edward II. and III., under 
the still weU-known name of ' lunne' (or boun). 
Horse-bread also was extensively prepared by 
the bakers, in the form of loaves duly sealed, 
beans and peas being the principal ingredients 

The profits of the bakers from very remote 
times were strictly a matter for legislatorial en- 
actment. A general regulation was in force, 
from the days of King John until the reign of 
Edward I., if not later, throughout England (the 
City of London perhaps excepted), that the profit 
of the baker on each quarter of wheat was to be, 
for his own labour, three pence and such bran as 





iiiiglit be sifted from the meal ; and that he Avas 
to add to the prime cost of tlie wheat, for fuel 
and wear of the oven, the price of two loaves ; 
for tlie services of three men, he was to add to 
the price of the bread three halfpence ; and for 
two boys one farthiug ; for the expenses attending 
the seal, one halfpenny; for yeast, one halfpenny ; 
for candle, one halfpenny; for wood, threepence; 
and for wear and tear of the bolter, or bolting- 
sieve, one halfpenny. 

In London, only farthing loaves and halfpenny 
loaves were allowed to be made, and it was a se- 
rious oflence. attended by forfeiture and punish- 
ment, for a baker to be found selling loaves of 
any other size. Loaves of this description seem 
to have been sometimes smuggled into market 
beneath a towel, or beneath the folds of the gar- 
ments, under the arms. For the better identifi- 
cation of the latter, in case of necessity, each 
loaf was sealed with the baker's seal; and this 
from time to time, and at the Wardmotes more 
especially, was shewn to the alderman of the 
Ward, who exacted a fee for registering it in his 
book. In London, from time to time, at least 
once in the mouth, each baker's bread (or, at all 
events, some sample loaves) was taken from the 
oven by the officers of the assayers, who seem 
to have had the appellation of ' hutch-reves,' 
and duly examined as to quality and weight ; it 
being enacted, however, in favour of the baker, 
that the scrutiny should always be made while 
the bread was hot ; the ' assay,' or sample 
loaves, which were given out to the bakers perio- 
dically for their guidance as to weight and 
quality, being delivered to them while hot. 

In the City of London, if the baker sold his bread 
himself by retail, he was particularly forbidden 
— for reasons apparently not easy now to be 
appreciated or ascertained — to sell it in his house, 
or before his house, or before the oven where it 
was baked ; in fact, he was only to sell it in 
the ' King's Market,' and such market as was 
assigned to him, and not elsewhere ; by which 
term apparently, in the fourteenth century, the 
markets of Easteheap, Cornhill, and Westcheap 
were meant. The foreign baker, however, or 
non-freeman, was allowed to store his bread for 
a single night. In the market, the loaves were 
exposed for sale in panjjers (bread-baskets), or in 
boxes or chests, in those days known as 'hutches ;' 
the latter being more especially employed in the 
sale of tourte bread. The principal days for the 
sale of bread in the London markets seem to 
have been Tuesday and Saturdajs though sale 
there on Sundays is also mentioned : in the days 
of Henry III. and Edward I., the king's toU on 
each basket of bread was one halfpenny on week 
days, and three halfjjence on Sundays. In other 
instances, we find bread delivered in London 
from house to house by regratresses, also called 
' hucksters,' or female retailers. These dealers, 
on purchasing their bread from the bakers, were 
privileged by law to receive thirteen articles for 
twelve, such being apparently the limit of their 
legitimate profits ; though it seems to have been 
the usage in London, at least at one period, for 
the baker to give to each regratress who dealt 
with him sixpence every Monday morning, by 
way of estrene, or hansel-money, and threepence 

as curies^/ or good-bye money, on delivery upon 
Friday of the last batch of the week ; a practice, 
however, which was forbidden by the authorities 
— the bakers being also ordered not to give 
credit to tliese regratresses when known to be in 
debt to others, and not to take bread back from 
them when once it had become cold. No regra- 
tress was allowed to cross London Bridge, or to 
go out of the City, to buy broad for the piirpose 
of retailing it. The baker of tourte bread was 
also forbidden to sell to a regratress in his shop, 
but only from his hutch, in the King's market. 

Thoiigh considerable favour was shcAvn to 
such bakers as were resident within the walls of 
the City, and though at times the introduction 
oi foreign bread, as being 'adulterine' or spu- 
rious, was strictly prohibited ; still, in general, 
a large proportion of the London supply was 
brought from a distance, Stratford le Bow, 
Stepney (Stevenhethe), Bromley (Bremble) in 
Essex, Paddington, and Saint Albans being 
among the places which we find mentioned ; the 
carriage being by horse or in carts, the loaves 
being packed in the latter (at least sometimes, 
and "as to the coarser kinds) without baskets. 
Bread seems to have been brought from the 
villages of Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire, in 
barges known as ' scuts,' or ' scows' We read 
that, occasionally, the country bakers contrived 
to imderseU their London brethren by making 
the public gainers of two ounces in the penny- 
worth of bread. Against bread made in South- 
wark there appears to have been an extraordinary 
degree of prejudice, the reason on one occasion 
assigned being, 'because the bakers of Suthewerk 
are not amenable to the justice of the City.' A 
common piece of fraud with knavish bakers 
seems to have been the making of bread of pure 
quality on the outside and coarse within ; a 
practice which was forbidden by enactment, it 
being equally forbidden to make loaves of bran, 
or pu.rposely mixed with bran. 

The baker of white bread was on no account 
to make tourte or brown bread, and similar re- 
strictions were put upon the ' tourter,' or baker 
of brown bread, as to the making of white. 
Tourte bread being made of unbolted meal, we 
find the tourte bakers of the City of London 
forbidden (in the reign of Eichard ll.) to have a 
bolting-sieve in their possession, as also_ to sell 
flour to a cook — the latter enactment being evi- 
dently intended to insure the comparative fine- 
ness of their bread, by preventing them from 
subtracting the flour from the meal. Bakers 
within the City were forbidden to heat their ovens 
with fern, stubble, or straw ; and in the reign of 
King John (a.d. 1212), in consequence of the 
recent devastation of the City by fire, they were 
not allowed to bake at night. They were also 
at times reminded by the civic authorities that it 
w-as their duty to instruct their servants so many 
times in the year, how to bolt the flour and 
knead their dough; and for the latter purpose 
they were not to use fountain-water, as being 
probably too hard. 

Hostelers and herbergeours (keepers of inns 
and lodging-houses) were not allowed to bake 
bread. "Private individuals who had no ovens of 
iJieir own, were in the habit of sending their 




flour to be kneaded by their own servants? at the 
' moukling-boards' belonsring to the bakers, the 
loaves being then baked in the baker's oven. 
Persons of respectability also had the right to 
enter bake-houses to see the bread made. Bakers 
were allowed, in London, to keep swine in their 
houses at times when other persons were for- 
bidden, with a view probably to the more speedy 
consumption of the refuse bran, and as an induce- 
ment to the baker not to make his bread of too 
coarse a quality. The swine, however, Avere to be 
kept out of the public streets and lanes. No baker 
was allowed in the city to withdraw the servant 
or journeyman of another, nor was he to admit 
such a person into his service without a licence 
from the master whom he had previously served. 
The frauds and punishments of English bakers 
in bygone centuries, we may perhaps find an 
opportunity of making the subject of future 


St Marcellus, pope, martyr, 310. St Macarlus, the 
elder, of Egyyt, 390. St Honoratus, archbishop of Aries, 
429. St Fiirsey, son of Fintaii, king of part of Ireland, 
650. Five Friars, minors, martyrs. St Henry, hermit, 

Born. — Richard Savage, poet, 1697. 

Died. — Edmund Spenser, poet, 1599; Edward Gibbon, 
historian, 1794 : Sir John Moore, 1809 ; Edmund Lodge, 
herald, 1839. 


The confessions or statements of an author 
regarding the composition of a great work are 


generally interesting. Gibbon gives an account 
both of the formation of the design of writing his 

Decline and Full of the Roman Empire, and of 
the circumstances under which that magnificent 
book was finished. At about twenty-seven years 
of age he inspected the ruins of E-ome under the 
care of a Scotchman ' of experience and taste,' 
named Bycrs ; and ' it was at Home,' says he, ' on 
the 15th of October 17G4, as I sat musing amidst 
the ruins of the Capitol, while the bare-footed 
friars were singing vespers in the Temple of 
Jupiter, that the idea of writing the decline and 
fall of the city first started to my mind.' It is to 
be observed that he thought only of the history 
of the city, not of the empire, to which his ideas 
finally expanded. 

Gribbon commenced the writing of his histoi*y 
after settling in a house in London about 1772. 
The latter moiety of the work was composed in 
an elegant mansion at Lausanne, in Switzerland, 


to which he retreated on being disappointed in 
a political career in England. The whole work 
occupied about fifteen years. ' It was,' says he — 
and the passage can never be read without the 
deepest interest—' it was on the day, or rather 
night, of the 27th of June 1787, between the 
hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last 
lines of the last page, in a summer-house in my 
garden. After laying down my pen, I took 
several turns in a hcrceau, or covered walk of 
acacias, which commands a prospect of the 
country, the lake, and the mountains. The air 
was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver 
orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, 
and all nature was silent. I will not dissemble 
the first emotions of joy on recovering my free- 
dom, and, perhaps, the establishment of my fame. 
But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober 
melancholy was spread over my mind, by the 
idea that 1 had taken an everlasting leave of an 
old and agreeable com])anion, and that whatso- 
ever might be the future fate of my History, the 





life of the liistorian must be short and pre- 

The historian was then fifty. 
Gibbon, as is well known, spent his life in 
celibacy, and was thus the better fitted for under- 
takino- and carryins through a great literary work. 
Partly in consequence of the sedentary life to 
whicli his task confined him, he became extremely 
obese. There is a story representing him as 
falling in love, while at Lausanne, with a young 
lady of great beauty and merit, and which goes 
on to describe him as one day throwing himself 
at her feet to declare his passion, when it was 
found impossible for him to rise again till he was 
extricated by the laughing damsel from his 
ludicrous position. George Coleman the Younger 
has painted the scene in verse of by no means 
great merit. 

' the fair pursued 

Her prattle, Avbich on literature flowed ; 
Xow changed her author, now her attitude, 
Aud much more symmetry than learning showed. 
Eudoxus watched her featm-es, while they glowed, 
Till passion bui-st his pufiy bosom's boimd ; 
And resciung his cushion from its load, 
Floimced on his knees, appearing lilce a round 
Large hUet of hot veal just tumbled on the ground. 

' Could such a lover be with scorn repulsed ? 
Oh no ! disdain befitted not the case ; 
And Agnes at the sight was so convulsed 
That tears of laughter trickled down her face. 
Eudoxus felt his folly aud disgrace. 
Looked sheepish, nettled, or -wished himself away ; 
And thrice he tried to quit his kneeling place ; 
But fat aud corpidency seemed to say, 
Here 's a petitioner that must for ever pray !' 

The falling in love with a young lady at Lau- 
sanne is undoubtedly ti'ue; but it happens that 
the incident took place in Gibbon's youth, when, 
so far from being fat or unwieldy, he was ex- 
tremely slender — for, be it observed, the illus- 
trious historian was in reality a small-boned 
man, and of more than usually slight figure 
in his young days. He was about twenty years 
of age, and was dwelling in Switzerland with 
a Protestant pastor by his father's orders, that he 
might recover himself (as he ultimately did) from 
a tendency to Eomanism Avhich had beset him 
at College, when Mademoiselle Susan Curchod, 
the daughter of the pastor of Crassy in Bur- 
gundy, came on a visit to some relations in Lau- 
sanne . The father of the young lady, in the soli- 
tude of his village situation, had bestowed tipon 
her a liberal education. ' She surpassed,' says 
Gibbon, ' his hopes, by her proficiency in the 
sciences and languages ; and in her short visits to 
some relations at Lausanne, the wit, the beauty, 
and erudition of Mademoiselle Curchod were 
the theme of universal applause. The report of 
such a prodigy awakened my curiosity ; I saw 
and loved. I found her learned without pedantry, 
lively in conversation, pure in sentiment, and 
elegant in manners ; and the first sudden emo- 
tion was fortified by the habits and knowledge of 
a more familiar acquaintance. She permitted me 
to make two or three visits at her father's house. 
I passed some happy days there in the mountains 
of Burgundy, and her parents honourably en- 
couraged the connection. In a calm retirement, 

the vanity of youth no longer fluttered in her 
bosom ; she listened to the voice of truth and 
passion, and I might presume to hope that I had 
made some impression on a virtuous heart. At 
Crassy and Lausanne, I indulged my dream 
of felicity ; but, on my return to England, I soon 
found that my father would not hear of this 
strange alliance, and that without his consent I 
was myself destitute and helpless. After a pain- 
fid struggle I yielded to my fate : I sighed as a 
lover, I obeyed as a son. My wound was insen- 
sibly healed by time, absence, and the habits of a 
new life. My cure was accelerated by a faithfid 
report of the tranquillity and cheerfulness of the 
lady herself, and my love subsided into friendship 
and. esteem.' 

The subsequent fate of Susan Curchod is 
worthy of being added. ' The minister of Crassy 
soon after died ; his stipend died with him : his 
daughter retired to Geneva, where, by teaching 
young ladies, she earned a hard subsistence for 
herself and her mother ; but in her lowest dis- 
tress she maintained a spotless reputation and a 
dignified behaviour. A rich banker of Paris, a 
citizen of Geneva, had the good fortune and good 
sense to discover and possess this inestimable 
treasure ; and in the capital of taste and luxury, 
she resisted the temptation of wealth, as she had 
sustained the hardships of indigence. The 
genius of her husband has exalted him to the 
most conspicuous situation in Europe. In every 
change of prosperity aud disgrace, he has re- 
clined on the bosom of a faithful friend ; and 
Mademoiselle Curchod is now the wife of M. 
Necker, the Minister, and perhaps the Legislator, 
of the French monarchy.' 

Gibbon wrote when the husband of his old 
love was trying to redeem France from destruc- 
tion by financial reforms. Not long after, he 
and his famdy were obliged to fly from France, 
after wliich they spent several years in Switzer- 
land. They were the parents of Madame de 
Stael Holstein. 


The battle of Corunna, January 16, 1809, was 
heard of with profound feeling by the British 
public. An army had failed in its mission : de- 
ceived by the Spanish junta and British minister 
(Mr Frere), it had made an advance on Madrid, 
and was forced to commence a retreat in the 
depth of winter. But the commander. Sir John 
Moore, more than redeemed himself from any 
censure to which he was liable, by the skill and 
patience with which he conducted the troops on 
their withdrawal to the coast. Our army was in 
great wretchedness, but the pursuing French 
were worse ; and when the gallant Moore stood 
at bay at Corunna, he gave the pursuers a 
thorough repulse, though at the expense of his 
own life. 

The handsome and regular features of Moore 
bear a melancholy expression, in hai'mony with 
his fate. He was in reality an admirable soldier. 
He had from boyhood devoted himself to his 
profession with extreme ardour, and his whole 
career was one in which duty was never lost 
sight of. He perished at the too early age of 
forty-seven, survived by his mother, at the men- 




tion of whose name, on hig death-bed, he mani- 
fested the only symptom of emotion which 
escaped him in that trying hour. 

While a boy of eleven years old, Moore had 
a great advantage, for his education in matters 


of the world, by accompanying his father, Dr 
Moore, on a tour of Europe, in company with 
the minor Duke of Hamilton, to whom Dr Moore 
acted as governor or preceptor. .The young 
soldier, constantly conversing with his highly 
enlightened parent, and introduced to many 
scenes calculated to awake curiosity, became a 
man in thoughts and manners while still a mere 
boy. At thirteen he danced, fenced, and rode 
with iTncommon address. His character was a 
fine compound of intelligence, gentleness, and 

The connection with the Duke of Hamilton 
had very nearly cost Moore his life. The Duke, 
though only sixteen, was allowed to wear a sword. 
One day, ' in an idle humour, he drew it, and 
began to amuse himself by fencing at young 
Moore, and laughed as he forced him to skip 
from side to side to shun false thrusts. The 
Duke continued this sport tUl Moore unluckily 
started in the line of the sword, and received it 
in his flank.' The elder Moore was speedily on 
the spot, and found his son wounded on the out- 
side of the ribs. The incident led to the forma- 
tion of a lasting friendship between the penitent 
young noble and his almost victim. — Life of Sir 
John M.oore, hy his brother, James Carrick 


On the 16th of January 1749, there took place 
in London a bubble or hoax, which has somehow 
become unusually well impressed upon the public 

mind. ' A person advertised that he would, this 
evening, at the Haymarket Theatre, play on a 
common walking cane the music of every instru- 
ment now used, to surprising perfection ; tliat 
he would, on the stage, get into a tavern quart 
bottle, without equivocation, and while there, sing 
several songs, and suffer any spectator to handle 
the bottle ; that if any spectator should come 
masked, he would, if requested, declare who they 
were ; and that in a private room he would pro- 
duce the representation of any person dead, with 
Avhich the person requesting it should converse 
some minutes, as if alive.' The prices proposed 
for this show were — gallery, 2s. ; pit, Ss. ; boxes, 
5s. ; stage, 7s. 6d. 

At the proper time, the house was crowded 
with curious people, many of them of the highest 
rank, including no less eminent a person than the 
Culloden Duke of Cumberland. They sat for a 
little while with tolerable patience, though un- 
cheered with music ; but by and by, the per- 
former not appearing, signs of irritation were 
evinced. In answer to a sounding with sticks 
and catcalls, a person belonging to the theatre 
came forward and explained that, in the event of 
a failure of performance, the money should be 
returned. A wag then cried out, that, if the 
ladies and gentlemen would give double prices, 
the conjurer would go into a pint bottle, which 
proved too much for the philosophy of the 
audience. A young gentleman threw a lighted 
candle upon the stage, and a general charge upon 
that part of the house followed. According to 
a private letter, to which we have had access — 
(it was written by a Scotch Jacobite lady) — 
' Cumberland was the first that flew in a rage, 

and called to pull down the house He 

drew his sword, and was in such a rage, that 
somebody slipped in behind him and pulled the 
sword out of his hand, which was as much as to 
say, " Fools should not have chopping sticks." 
This sword of his has never been heard tell of, 
nor the person who took it. Thirty guineas of 
reward are offered for it. Monster of Nature, 
I am sure I wish he may never get it ! 

' The greater part of the audience made their 
way out of the theatre ; some losing a cloak, 
others a hat, others a wig, and others, hat, wig, 
and swords also. One party, however, stayed in 
the house, in order to demolish the inside ; when, 
the mob breaking in, they tore up the benches, 
broke to pieces the scenes, pulled down the 
boxes, in short dismantled the theatre entirely, 
carrying away the particulars above-mentioned 
into the street, where they made a mighty bon- 
fire ; the curtain being hoisted in the middle of 
it by way of flag.' 

There is a want of explanation as to the inten- 
tions of this conjurer. The proprietor of the 
theatre afterwards stated that, in apprehension 
of failure, he had reserved all the money taken, 
in order to give it back, and he would have 
returned it to the audience if they would have 
stayed their hands from destroying his house. 
It therefore would appear that either money was 
not the object aimed at, or, if aimed at, was not 
attained, by the conjurer. Most probably he 
only meant to try an experiment on the credulity 
of the public. 





The bottle lionx proved an excellent subject 
for the Avits. particularly those of the Jacobite 
party. The followini;- advertisement appeared in 
the paper called Old Jiiiqlaiid : 

' 1' ound, entangled in a'slifc of a lady's demolished 
smoclc-petticoat. a gilt-handled sword of martial 
temper and length, not much the worse of wearing, 
■with the Spey curiously engraven on one side, and 
the Scheld on the other ; supposed to be taken 
from the fat sides of a certain great general in his 
hasty retreat from the battle of Bottle-noddles 
in the Haymarkct. Whoever has lost it may 
inquire for it at the sign of the Bird and Singing 
Lane in Potters' Eow.' * 


St Anthony, pntviarch of monks, 356. SS Speusippiis, 
Eleusippus, Meleusippup, martyrs. St Neiinius, abbot, 
6th century. St Sulpicius the Pious, archbishop, ,^91. 
St Sulpicius the second, archbishop, 644. St Miigithe, 
virgin, 7th century. 


Antonius, reputed as amongst the earliest of 
anchorets, and commonly called the Patriarch of 
Monks, was a native of Egypt, born about the 
year 251. After leading an ascetic life for some 
time in his native village, he withdrew from 
human society and took up his abode in a cave. 
His abstinence, his self-inflicted punishments, the 
temptations of the evil one, the assaults of 
daemons, and the efficacy of his prayers, are all 
narrated by St Athanasius. His manner of life 
was imitated by a great number of persons, who 
occasionally resorted to him for advice and in- 
struction. Antonius seems indeed to have been 
the founder of the solitary mode of living, which 
soon extended from Egypt into other countries. 
During the persecution under Maximinus, about 
the year 310, some of the solitaries were seized in 
the wildei'ness, and suffered martyrdom at Alex- 
andria, -uhither Antonius accompanied them, but 
was not subjected to punishment. After his 
return, he retired farther into the desert, but 
went on one occasion to Alexandria in order to 
preach against the Arians. 

The two monastic orders of St Anthony ori- 
ginated long after the time of the saint, — one 
in Dauphine, in the eleventh century ; and the 
other, a military order, in Hainault, in the four- 
teenth century. In Dauphine, the people were 
cured of the erysipelas, by the aid, as they 
thought, of St Anthony ; and the disease was 
afterwards called St Anthony's Fire. 

It is scarcely necessary to remark that St 
Anthony is one of the most notable of all the 
saints in the Bomish calendar. One cannot 
travel anywhere in Europe at the present day, 
and particularly in Italy, without finding, in 
churches and monasteries, and the habits and 
familiar ideas of the people, abundant memorials 
of this early Egyptian anchorite. Even in Scot- 
land, at Leith, a street reveals by its name where 
a monastery of St Anthony once stood ; while, 

* Gentleman's and Scots Magazines, 1749. Bishop 

on the hill of Arthur's Scat, overhanging Edin- 
burgh, we still see a fragment of a small church 
that had been dedicated to him, and a foimtain 
called St Anton's Well. 

The Temptations of St Anthony have, through 
St Athanasius's memoir, become one of the most 
familiar of European ideas. Scores of artists, 
from Salvator Bosa downwards, have exerted 
their talents in depicting these mystic occur- 
rences. Satan, we are informed, first tried, by 
bemudding his thoughts, to divert him from the 
design of becoming a monk. Then he appeared 
to him in the form successively of a handsome 
woman and a black boy, but without in the least 
disturbing him. Angry at the defeat, Satan and 
a multitude of attendant fiends fell upon him 
during the night, and he was found in his cell in 
the morning lying to all appearance dead. On 
another occasion, they expressed their rage by 
making such a dreadful noise that the walls of 
his cell shook. ' They transformed themselves 
into shapes of all sorts of beasts, lions, bears, 
leopards, bulls, serpents, asps, scorpions, and 
wolves ; every one of which moved and acted 
agreeably to the creatures which they repre- 
sented : the lion roaring and seeming to make 
towards him ; the bull to butt ; the serpent to 
creep ; and the wolf to run at him, and so, in 
short, all the rest ; so that Anthony was tor- 
tured and mangled by them so grievou^sly that 
his bodily pain was greater than before.' But, 
as it were laughingly, he taunted them, and the 
devils gnashed their teeth. This continued till 
the roof of his cell opened, a beam of light shot 
down, the devils became speechless, Anthony's 
pain ceased, and the roof closed again. 

Bishop Latiiuer relates a ' pretty story ' of 
St Anthony, ' who, being in the wilderness, had 
there a very hard and strait life, insomuch that 
none at that time did the like ; to whom came 
a voice from heaven, saying, " Anthony, thou 
art not so perfect as is a cobljler that dwelleth at 
Alexandria." Anthony, hearing this, rose up 
forthwith and took his staiFand went till he came 
to Alexandria, where he found the cobbler. The 
cobbler was astonished to see so reverend a 
father come to his hotise ; when Anthony said 
unto him, " Come and tell me thy whole conver- 
sation, and how thou spendest thy time." " Sir," 
said the cobbler, "as for me, good works have I 
none, for my life is but simple and slender ; I am 
but a poor" cobbler. In the morning Avhen I 
rise, I pray for the whole city wherein I dwell, 
especially for aU such neighbours and poor friends 
as I have : after I set me at my labour, where I 
spend the whole day in getting my living ; and I 
keep me from all falsehood, for I hate nothing so 
much as I do deceitfidness ; wherefore, when I 
make to any man a promise, I keep to it, and per- 
form it truly. And thus I spend my time poorly 
with my wife and children, whom I teach and 
instruct, as far as my wit will serve me, to fear 
and dread God. And this is the sum of my 
simple life." In this story, j'oii see how God 
loveth those who follow their vocation and live 
uprightly without any falsehood in their dealing. 
Anthony was a great holy man ; yet this cobbler 
was as much esteemed before God as he.' 




Bom. — B. de Montfaucon, antiquarj', 1655 ; Archibald 
Bower, historical writer, 1686 ; George Lord Lyttelton, 
historian and poet, 1709 ; Victor Alfieri, poet, 1749 ; 
J. C. \V. G. Mozart, musician, 1756. 

/;,V(^._John Eay, naturalist, 1705; Bishop Home, 


A model of well-spent literary life was tliat of 
Bernard de Montfaucon. Overlookiug many minor 
works, it is enough to regard his great ones: Antl- 
quity exjAained hij Figures, in fifteen folios, con- 
taining twelve hundred plates (descriptive of all 
that has been preserved to us of ancient art) ; and 
the Monuments of the French Monarch}/, in five 
volumes. ' He died at the Abbey of St Germain 
des Pres, in 1741, at the age of eighty-seven, 
having preserved his faculties so entire, that 
nearly to the termination of his long career he 
employed eight hours a day in study. A very 
regular and abstemious life had so fortified his 
constitution that, during fifty years, he never was 
indisposed; nor does it appear that his severe 
literary labours had any tendency to abridge his 

Several other literary Nestors could be cited to 
prove that the life of an author is not necessarily 
unhealthful or short. It is only when literary 
labour is carried to an extreme transcending 
natural power, or complicated with harassing 
cares and dissipation, that it proves destructive. 
"When we see a man of letters sink at an early 
age, supposing there has been no original weak- 
ness of constitution, we may be sure that there 
has been some of these causes at work. When, 
as often happens, a laborious writer like the late 
Mr. Britton or Mr. John Nichols goes on, with 
the pen in his hand every day, till he has passed 
eighty, then we may be equally sure there has 
been prudence and temperance. But the case is 
general. Health and longevity are connected 
to a certain extent with habit. And there is 
some sense at bottom in what a quaint friend of 
ours often half jocularly declares; namely, that it 
woidd, as a rule, do invalids some good, if they 
were not so much sympathised with as they are, 
if they were allowed to know that they woiild be 
better (because more useful) members of society 
if they could contrive to avoid bad health ; which 
most persons can to a certain extent do by a 
decent degree of self-denial, care, and due 

' Deep-thinking philosophers have at all times 
been distinguished by their great age, especially 
when their philosophy was occupied in the study 
of jSTature. and afforded them the divine pleasure 
of discovering new and important truths. . . . The 
most ancient instances are to be found among the 
Stoics and the Pythagoreans, according to whose 
ideas, subduing the passions and sensibility, with 
the observation of strict regimen, were the most 
essential duties of a philosopher. We have 
already considered the example of a Plato and 
an Isocrates. ApoUonius of Tyansea, an accom- 
plished man, endowed with extraordinary powers 
both of body and mind, who, by the Christians, 
was considered as a magician, and by the Greeks 
and Eomans as a messenger of the gods, in his 
regimen, a follower of Pythagoras, and a friend 

to travelling, was above 100 years of age. Xeno- 
philus, a Pythagorean also, lived lOG years. The 
philosopher Demonax, a man of the most severe 
manners and iincommon stoical apathy, lived 
likewise 100 years. 

' Even in modern times philosophers seem to 
have obtained this pre-eminence, and the deepest 
thinkers appear in that respect to have enjoyed, in 
a higher degree, the fruits of their mental tran- 
quillity. Kewton, who found all his happiness 
and pleasure in the higher spheres, attained to 
the age of eighty-four. Euler, a man of incredible 
industry, whose works on the most abstruse sub- 
jects amount to above three hundred, approached 
near to the same age : and Kant, the first philo- 
sopher now alive, still shews that philosophy not 
only can preserve life, but that it is the most 
faithful companion of the greatest age, and an 
inexhaustible source of liappiness to one's self 
and others.' — KufelancVs Art of Preserving Life. 


It is a curious proof of that tendency to con- 
tinuiti/ which marks all public institutions in 
England, that the services appointed for national 
thanksgiving on account of the Gunpowder Plot, 
for national humiliation regarding the execution 
of Charles I., and for thanksgiving with respect 
to the Eestoration of Charles II., should have 
maintained their ground as holidays till after the 
middle of the nineteenth century. National 
good sense had long ceased to believe that the 
Deity had inspired James I. with ' a divine spirit 
to interpret some dark phrases of a letter,' in 
order to save the kingdom from the ' utter ruin ' 
threatened by Guy Fawkes and his associates. 
National good feeling had equally ceased to jus- 
tify the keeping up of the remembrance of the 
act of a set of infuriated men, to the offence of 
a large class of our fellow-Christians. We had 
most of us become very doubtful that the blood 
of Charles I. was ' innocent blood,' or that he 
was strictly a ' martyred sovereign,' though few 
would now-a-days be disposed to see him pun- 
ished exactly as he was for his political short- 
comings and errors. Still more doubt had fallen 
on the blessing supposed to be involved in the 
' miraculous providence ' by which Charles II. 
was restored to his kingdom. Indeed, to say 
the very least, the feeling, more or less partial 
from the first, under which the services on 
these holidays had been appointed, had for gene- 
rations been dead in the national heart, and their 
being still maintained was a pure solecism and a 

It was under a sense of this being the case 
that, at the convocation of 1857, Dr Milman, 
Dean of St Paul's, expressed a doubt whether 
Ave ought to command the English nation to 
employ in a systematic way opprobrious epithets 
towards Eoman Catholics, and to apply divine 
epithets to the two Charleses. He was sup- 
ported by Dr Martin, Chancellor of the diocese 
of Exeter. Enough transpired to shew that 
Convocation did not attach much value to 
the retention of the services. In 1858, Earl 
Stanhope brought the matter formally before 
the House of Lords. He detailed the circimi- 
stances under which the services had origi. 





nated ; and then moved an address to tlie 
Crown, praying that the Queen would, by 
royal consent, abolish the services, as being 
derogatory to the present age. He pointed out 
that, although a nest of scoundrels planned a 
wicked thing early in tlio seventeenth century, it 
does not follow that tlie Queen should command 
her subi'eets to use offensive language towards 
Eoman Catholics in the middle of the nineteenth. 
He also urged that we, in the present day, have 
a right to think as we please about the alleged 
divine perfections of the sovereigns of the 
Stuart family. From first to last there have 
been differences of opinion as to the propriety of 
these services ; many clergymen positively re- 
fused to read them ; and the Dean and Chapter 
of Canterbury Cathedral omitted them without 
waiting for royal authority. It was striking to 
observe how general was the support which Earl 
Stanhope's views obtained in the House of 
Loi'ds. The Archbishop of Canterbury, the 
Bishops of London and Oxford, the Earl of 
Derby, besides those who generally ranked 
among liberal peers, supported the address, which 
was forthwith carried. A similar address was 
passed by the House of Commons. The Queen 
returned answers which plainly shewed what the 
advisers of the Crown thought on the matter. 
Accordingly, on the 17th of January 1859, a 
royal warrant was issued, abolishing the special 
services for the three days named. It was imme- 
diately seen, however, that if the Acts of Par- 
liament stUl remained in the Statute-book, clergy- 
men might occasionally be embarrassed in refer- 
ence to them ; and, accordingly, a new Act was 
passed in the same year, repealing the obnoxious 

Thus was a small but wholesome work done 
once for all. The pith of the whole subject is 
contained in a sensible observation made by the 
Archbishop of Canterbury : ' I hold it to be im- 
possible, even if it were desirable, that we, at a 
distance of two or three centuries, should enter- 
tain the feelings or sympathise with the expres- 
sions which are found in these services ; and it is 
very inexpedient that the people should be in- 
vited to offer up prayers and thanksgivings in 
which their hearts take no concern.' 

A remark may be offered in addition, at the 
hazard of appearing a little paradoxical — that it 
might be well if a great deal of history, instead 
of being remembered, could be forgotten. It 
would be a benefit to Ireland, far Ijeyond the 
Encumbered Estates Act, if nearly the whole of 
her history could be obliterated. The oblivion 
of all that Sir Archibald Alison has chronicled 
would be a blessing to botli France and England. 
Happy were it for England if her war for the 
subjugation of America could be buried in obli- 
vion ; and happy, thrice happy, would it be for 
America in future, if her warlike efforts of 1861 
could be in like manner forgotten. Above all, it 
is surely most desirable that there should be no 
regular celebration by any nation, sect, or party, 
of any special transaction, the memory of which 
is necessarily painful to some neighbouriag state, 
or some other section of the same population. 
Let us just reflect for a moment on what would 
be thought of a man who, in private society, 
126 ^ 

loved to taunt a neighbour with a law-suit he 
had lost fifty years ago, or some criminality 
wliich had been committed by his great-grand- 
uncle ! What better is it to remind the people 
of Ireland of their defeat at the Boyne, or our 
Catholic fellow-Christians of the guilt of the 
infatuated Catesby and his companions ? 

l^jcgal |Jrosct«tions of tlj£ ITofaer ^nimals. 

St Anthony has been long recognised as the 
patron and protector of the lower animals, 
and particularly of pigs. Quaint old Fuller, in 
his Worthies, says : ' St Anthony is universally 
known for the patron of hogs, having a pig for 
his page in all pictures, though for what reason 
is unknown, except, because being a hermit, and 
having a cell or hole digged in the earth, and 
having his general repast on roots, he and hogs 
did in some sort enter-common both in their diet 
and lodging.' Stow, in his Survey, mentions 
a curious custom prevalent in his time in the 
London markets : ' The officers in this city,' he 
says, ' did divers times take from the market 
people, pigs starved or otherwise unwholesome 
for man's sustenance ; these they did slit in the 
ear. One of the proctors of St Anthony's 
Hospital tied a beU about the neck, and let it 
feed upon the dunghills ; no one would hurt or 
take it up ; but if any one gave it bread or other 
feeding, such it would know, watch for, and daily 
follow, whining till it had somewhat given it ; 
whereupon was raised a proverb, such a one will 
follow such a one, and whine as if it were an 
Anthony pig.' This custom was generally ob- 
served, and to it we are indebted for the still- 
used proverbial simile — Like a tantony pig. 

At Rome, on St Anthony's day, the religious ser- 
vice termed the Benediction of Beasts is annually 
performed in the church dedicated to him, near 
Santa Maria Maggiore. It lasts for some days ; 
for not only every Homan, from the pontiff to 
the peasant, who has a horse, mide, or ass, sends 
his cattle to be blessed at St Anthony's shrine ; 
but all the English send their job-horses and 
favourite dogs, and for the small offering of a 
couple of paoli get them sprinkled, sanctified, 
and placed under the immediate protection of 
the saint. A similar custom is observed on 
the same day at Madrid and many other places. 

On the Continent, down to a comparatively 
late period, the lower animals were in all respects 
considered amenable to the laws. Domestic 
animals were tried in the common criminal courts, 
and their punishment on conviction was death ; 
wild animals fell under the jurisdiction of the 
ecclesiastical courts, and their punishment was 
banishment and death by exorcism and excom- 
munication. Nor was the latter a light punish- 
ment. We all know how St Patrick exorcised 
the Irish reptiles into the sea ; and St Bernard, 
one day, by peevishly saying, ' Be thou excom- 
municated' to a blue-bottle fly, that annoyed 
him by buzzing about his ears, unwittingly de- 
stroyed the flies of a whole district. The pre- 
rogative of trying the domestic animals was 




founded, on tte Jewish law, as laid down in 
Exodus xxi. 28, and other places in the Old 
Testament. In every instance advocates were 
assigned to defend the animals, and the whole 
proceedings, trial, sentence, and execution, were 
conducted with all the strictest formalities of 
justice. The researches of French antiquaries 
have brought to light the records of ninety-two 
processes against animals, tried in their courts 
from 1120 to 1740, when the last trial and execu- 
tion, that of a cow, took place. 

The trials of wild animals of a noxious de- 
scription, as rats, locusts, caterpiLlars,_ and such 
like, were, as has been already mentioned, con- 
ducted in the ecclesiastical courts. The pro- 
ceedings were exceedingly compHcated, and, not 
having the sanction of the Mosaical law, were 
founded on the following thesis : As God cursed 
the serpent, David the mountains of GUboa, and 
our Saviour the barren fig-tree ; so, in like 
manner, the church had full power and authority 
to exorcise, anathematise, and excommunicate all 
animate and inanimate things. But as the lower 
animals, being created before man, were the 
elder-born and first heirs of the earth, as God 
blessed them and gave them ' every green herb 
for meat,' as they were provided for in the ark, 
and entitled to the privileges of the sabbath, they 
must ever be treated with the greatest clemency, 
consistent with justice. 

Some learned canonists, however, disputed 
those propositions, alleging that authority to 
try and punish offences, under the law, implied 
a contract, quasi-contract, pact, or stipulation, 
between the supreme power that made and ad- 
ministered the law, and those subjected to it. 
They contended, that, the lower animals being 
devoid of intelligence, no such pact ever had been 
or could be made ; and that punishments for in- 
juries committed unintentionally and in ignorance 
of the law, were unjust. They questioned, also, 
the authority of the Church to anathematise 
those whom she did not undertake to baptize, 
and adduced the example of the Archangel 
Michael, who, when contending with Satan for 
the body of Moses, did not make a railing accu- 
sation against the ' Old Serpent,' but left it to 
the Lord to rebuke him. Such discussions appear 
like the amusing inventions of Eabelais, or Swift ; 
but they were no jesting matter to the simple 
agriculturists who engaged in those litigations. 

The general course of a process was as follows : 
The inhabitants of the district being annoyed by 
certain animals, the court appointed experts to 
survey and report upon the damage committed. 
An advocate was then appointed to defend the 
animals, and shew cause why they should not be 
summoned. They were then cited three several 
times, and not appearing, judgment was given 
against them by default. The court next issued 
a monitoire, warning the animals to leave the 
district within a certain time, \mder penalty of 
adjuration ; and if they did not disappear on or 
before the period appointed, the exorcism was 
with all solemnity pronounced. This looks 
straightforward enough, but the delays and un- 
certainties of the law — ecclesiastical law espe- 
cially — have long been proverbial. The courts, 
by eveiy available means of delay, evaded the 

last extremity of pronouncing the exorcism, pro- 
bably lest the animals should neglect to pay 
attention to it. Indeed, it is actually recorded 
that, in some instances, the noxious animals, 
instead of ' withering off the face of the earth,' 
after being anathematised, became more abundant 
and destructive than before. This the doctors, 
learned in the law, attributed neither to the 
injustice of the sentence, nor want of power of 
the court, but to the malevolent antagonism of 
Satan, who, as in the case of Job, is at certain 
times permitted to tempt and annoy mankind. 

A law-suit between the inhabitants of the com- 
mune of St JuUen, and a coleopterous insect, now 
known to naturalists as the Ei/nchitus aureus, 
lasted for more than forty-two years. _ At length 
the inhabitants proposed to compromise the mat- 
ter by giving up, in perpetuity, to the insects, 
a fertile part of the district for their sole use 
and benefit. Of course the advocate of the ani- 
mals demurred to the proposition ; but the court, 
overruling the demurrer, appointed assessors to 
survey the land, and, it proving to be well wooded 
and watered, and every way suitable for the 
insects, ordered the conveyance to be engrossed 
in due form and executed. The unfortunate 
people then thought they had got rid of a trouble 
imposed on them by their litigious fathers and 
grandfathers ; but they were sadly mistaken. It 
was discovered that there had formerly been a 
mine or quarry of an ochreous earth, used as 
a pigment, in the land conveyed to the insects ; 
and though the quarry had long since been 
worked out and exhausted, some one possessed 
an ancient right of way to it, which if exercised 
would be greatly to the annoyance of the new 
proprietors. Consequently the contract was 
vitiated, and the whole process commenced de 
novo. How or when it ended, the mutilation of 
the recording documents prevents us from know- 
ing; but it IS certain that the proceedings com- 
menced in the year 1445, and that they had not 
concluded in 1487. So what with the insects, the 
lawyers, and the church, the poor inhabitants 
must have been pretty well fleeced. During the 
whole period of a process, religious processions 
and other expensive ceremonies that had to be 
well paid for, were strictly enjoined. Besides, 
no district could commence a process of this 
kind unless all its arrears of tithes were paid up ; 
and this circumstance gave rise to the weU-known 
French legal maxim— ' The first step towards 
getting rid of locusts is the payment of tithes ;' 
an adage that in all probability was susceptible 
of more meanings than one. 

The summonses were served by an ofiicer of 
the court, reading them at the places where the 
animals frequented. These citations were written 
out with aU technical formality, and, that there 
might be no mistake, contained a description of 
the" animals. Thus, in a process against rats in 
the diocese of Autun, the defendants were de- 
scribed as dirty animals in the form of rats, 
of a greyish colour, living in holes. This trial 
is famous in the annals of French law, for it 
was at it that Chassanee, the celebrated juriscon- 
sult—the Coke of France — won his first laurels. 
The rats not appearmg on the first citation, 
Chassanee, their counsel, argued that the sum- 



THE booe: of days. 


mons was of a too local and individual character ; 
that, as all the rats in the diocese were interested, 
all the rats should be summoned, in all parts of 
the diocese. This plea being admitted, the curate 
of every parish in the diocese was instructed 
to summon every rat for a future day. The day 
arriving, but no' rats, Chassanee said that, as all 
his clients were summoned, including young and 
old, sick and healthy, great preparations had to 
be made, and certain arrangements carried into 
effect, and therefore he begged for an extension 
of time. This also being granted, another day 
was appointed, and no rats appearing, Chassanee 
objected to the legality of the summons, under 
certain circumstances. A summona from that 
court, he argued, implied full px-otection to the 
parties simamoned, both on their way to it and 
on their return home ; but his clients, the rats, 
though most anxious to appear in obedience to 
the court, did not dare to stir out of their holes 
on account of the number of evil-disposed cats 
kept by the plaintiffs. Let the latter, he con- 
tinued, enter into bonds, under heavy pecuniary 
penalties, that their cats shall not molest my 
clients, and the summons will be at once obeyed. 
The court acknowledged the validity of this plea; 

but, the plaintiffs declining to be boxmd over for 
the good behaviour of their cats, the period for 
the rats' attendance was adjourned sine die ; and 
thus, Chassanee gaining his cause, laid the foun- 
dation of his future fame. 

Though judgment was given by default, on 
the non-appearance of the animals summoned, yet 
it was considered necessary that some of them 
should be present when the monitoire was 
delivered. Thus, in a process against leeches, 
tried at Lausanne, in 1451, a number of leeches 
were brought into court to hear the monitoire 
read, which admonished them to leave the dis- 
trict in three clays. The leeches, proving contu- 
macious, did not leave, and consecjuently were 
exorcised. This exorcism differing slightly from 
the usual form, some canonists adversely criti- 
cised, while others defended it. The doctors of 
Heidelberg, then a famous seat of learning, not 
only gave it their entire and unanimous approba- 
tion, but imposed silence upon all impertinents 
that presumed to speak against it. And, though 
they admitted its slight deviation from tiie 
recognised formula made and provided for such 
purposes, yet they triumphantly appealed to its 
efficiency as proved by the result ; the leeches, 


immediately after its delivery, having died 
off, day by day, till they were utterly exter- 

Among trials of individual animals for special 

acts of turpitude, one of the most amusing was 

that of a sow and her six young ones, at Lavegny, 

in 1457. on a charge of their having murdered and 


partly eaten a child. Our artist has endeavoured 
to represent this scene ; but we fear that his 
sense of the ludicrous has incapacitated him for 
giving it with the due solemnity. The sow was 
found guilty and condemned to death ; but the 
pigs were acquitted on account of their youth, 
the bad example of their mother, and the absence 




of direct proof as to tlieir having been concerned 
in the eating of the child. 

These suits against animals not unfrequently 
led to more serious trials of human beings, on 
charges of sorcery. Simple country people, find- 
ing the regular process very tedious and expensive, 
purchased charms and exorcisms from empirical, 
unlicensed exorcists, at a much cheaper rate. 
But, if any of the parties to this contraband 
traffic ^vere discovered, death by stake and fagot 
was their inevitable fate — infernal sorcerers were 
not to presume to compete with holy church. 
Still there was one animal, the serpent, which, as 
it had been cursed at a very early period in the 
world's history, might be exorcised and charmed 
(so that it could not leave the spot where it was 
first seen) by any one, lay or cleric, without the 
slightest imputation of sorcery. The formula was 
simply thus : — 

' By Him who created thee, I adjure thee, that 
thou remain in the spot where thou art, whether 
it be thy will to do so or otherwise ; and I curse 
thee with the curse with which the Lord hath 
cursed thee.' 

But if a wretched shepherd was convicted of 
having uttered the following nonsense, termed ' the 
prayer of the wolf,' he was burned at the stake : 

' Come, beast of wool, thou art the lamb of 
humility ! I will protect thee. Go to the right 
about, grim, grey, and greedy beasts ! Wolves, 
she-wolves, and young wolves, ye are not to touch 
the flesh, which is here. Get thee behind me, 
Satan ! ' 

French shepherds suffered fearfully in the 
olden time, through being frequently charged 
with sorcery ; and, among the rustic population, 
they are still looked upon as persons who know 
and practise dark and forbidden arts. 

Legal proceedings against animals were not 
confined to France. At Basle, in 1474, a cock 
was tried for having laid an egg. For the pro- 
secution it was froved that cocks' eggs were of 
inestimable value for mixing in certain magical 
preparations; that a sorcerer would rather 
possess a cock's egg than be master of the philo- 
sopher's stone; and that, in pagan lands, Satan 
employed witches to hatch such eggs, from which 
proceeded animals most injurious to all of the 
Christian faith and race. The advocate for the 
defence admitted the facts of the case, but asked 
what evil animus had been proved against his 
client, what injury to man or beast had it effected? 
Besides, the laying of the egg was an involuntary 
act, and as such, not punishable by law. If the 
crime of sorcery were imputed, the cock was 
innocent ; for there was no instance on record of 
Satan ever having made a compact with one of 
the brute creation. In reply, the public prose- 
cutor alleged that, though tlie devil did not make 
compacts with brutes, he sometimes entered into 
them ; and though the swine possessed by devils, 
as mentioned in Scripture, were involuntary 
agents, yet they, nevertheless, were punished by 
being caused to run down a steep place into the 
sea, and so perished in the waters. The pleadings 
in this case, even as recorded by Hammerlein, are 
voluminous ; we only give the meagre outlines of 
the principal pleas; suffice it to say, the cock was 
condemned to death, not as a cock, but as a 

sorcerer or devil in the form of a cock, and was 
with its egg burned at the stake, with all the 
due form and solemnity of a judicial punish- 

As the lower animals were anciently amenable 
to law in Switzerland, so, in peculiar circum- 
stances, they could be received as witnesses. And 
we have been informed, by a distinguished Sar- 
dinian lawyer, that a similar law is still, or was 
to a very late period, recognised in Savoy. If a 
man's house was broken into between sunset and 
sunrise, and the owner of the house killed the 
intruder, the act was considered a justifiable 
homicide. But it was considered just possible 
that a man, who lived all alone by himself, might 
invite or entice a person, whom he wished to kill, 
to spend the evening with him, and after murder- 
ing his victim, assert that he did it in defence of 
his person and property, the slain man having 
been a burglar. So when a person was killed 
under such circumstances, the solitary house- 
holder was not held innocent, unless he produced 
a dog, a cat, or a cock that had been an inmate 
of the house, and witnessed the death of the 
person killed. The owner of the house was 
compelled to make his declaration of innocence 
on oath before one of those animals, and if it 
did not contradict him, he was considered guilt- 
less ; the law taking for granted, that the i)eity 
would cause a miraculous manifestation, by a 
dumb animal, rather than allow a murderer to 
escape from justice. 

In Spain and Italy the lower animals were held 
subject to the laws, as in France. Azpilceuta of 
Navarre, a renowned Spanish canonist, asserts 
that rats when exorcised were ordered to depart 
for foreign countries, and that the obedient 
animals would, accordingly, march down in large 
bodies to the sea-coast, and thence set off by 
swimming in search of desert islands, where they 
could live and enjoy themselves, without annoy- 
ance to man. In Italy, also, processes against 
caterpillars and other ' small deer ' were of 
frequent occurrence ; and certain large fishes 
called terons, that used to break the fishermen's 
nets, were annually anathematised from the lakes 
and headlands of the north-western shores of the 
Mediterranean. Aproi^s of fishes, Maffei, the 
learned Jesuit, in his History of India, teUs a 
curious story. A Portuguese ship, saUiug to 
Brazil, fell becalmed in dangerous proximity to a 
large whale. The mariners, terrified by the un- 
couth gambols of the monster, improvised a sum- 
mary process, and duly exorcised the dreaded 
cetacean, which, to their great relief, immediately 
sank to the lowest depths of ocean. 


On the 17th January 1667-8, there took place 
a piece of private war which, in its prompting 
causes, as well as the circumstances under which 
it was fought out, forms as vivid an illustration 
of the character of the age as could well be de- 
sired. The parties were George Yilliers, Duke 
of Buckingham, attended by Sir Robert Holmes 
and Captain William Jenkins, on one side ; and 
Francis Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, attended 
by Sir John Talbot, a gentleman of the King's 




Triv}^ Cliambor, and Bornnvd Howard, a younger 
son of the Earl of Arundol, on the other. 

Popys. in reforonco to tliis ' duell,' as he terms 
it, says, it was all ' about my Lady Shrewsbury, at 
that "time, and for a great while before, a mistress 
to the i)uke of Buekiugham ; and so her husband 
ehallonged him. and they met; and my Lord 
Shrewsbury was run through the body, from the 
1 iglit breast through the shoiddcr ; and Sir John 
Talbot all along up cue of his arms ; and 
Jenkins killed upon the j)lace, and the rest all in 
a little measure wounded.' (Pepys's Dian/, 
iv. 15.) A pardon under the great seal, dated 
on February the 5th following, was granted to 
all the persons concerned iu this tragical aflair ; 
the result of which proved more disastrous than 
had at first been anticipated, for Lord Slirews- 
biay died iu consequence of his wound, iu the 
course of the same year. 

It is reported that during the fight the Countess 
of Shrewsbury held her lover's horse, iu the dress 
of a page. This lady was Anna Maria Brudenell, 
daughter of llobert Earl of Cardigan. She sur- 
vived both her gallant and her first husband, 
and was married, secondly, to George Boduey 
Brydgcs, of Xeynsham, in Somersetshire. 


St Peter's Chair at Rome. St Paul and Thirty-six 
Companions in Egypt. St Prisca, virgin and martyr, 
about 275. St Deicolus, abbot, 7tli century. St Ulfrid, 
bishop and martyr, 1028. 

The festival of St Peter's Chair, annually cele- 
brated at Bome on this day, appears to be meant 
as an act of gratitude for the founding of the 
papacy. Butler tells us that it is well evidenced 
for a great antiquity, being adverted to in a 
martj'rology copied in the time of St Willibrod, 
in 720. 'Christians,' he says, 'justly celebrate 
the founding of this mother church, the centre 
of Catholic communion, in thanksgiving to Grod 
for his mercies on his church, and to implore his 
futiu'e blessing".' The celebration takes place 
in St Peter's Church, under circumstances of 
the greatest solemnity and splendour. It is one 
of the very {evrfunzioni (functions), as they are 
called, which are celebrated in that magnificent 
temple. The aflair is thus described by Lady 
Morgan in her work, Ifa/i/ : 

' The splendidly dressed trooi^s that line the 
nave of the cathedral, the variety and richness 
of vestments which clothe the various church 
and lay dignitaries, abbots, priests, canons, pre- 
lates, cardinals, doctors, dragoons, senators, and 
grenadiers, which march in procession, complete, 
as they proceed up the vast space of this won- 
drous temple, a sjjectacle nowhere to be equalled 
within the pale of European civilization. In the 
midst of swords aud crosiers, of halberds and 
crucifixes, surrounded by banners, and bending 
under the glittering tiara of threefold power, 
appears the aged, feeble, and worn-out pope, 
borne aloft on men's shoulders, in a chair of 
crimson and gold, and environed by slaves, (for 
such they look.) who waft, from plumes of ostrich 

feathers mounted on ivory wands, a cooling gale, 
to refresh his exhausted frame, too frail for the 
weight of siich honours. All fall prostrate, as 
he passes up the church to a small choir and 
throne, temporarily erected beneath the chair of 
St Peter. A solemn service is then performed, 
hosannas arise, and royal votarists aud diplomatic 
devotees parade the church, with guards of 
honour and running footmen, while English 
gentlemen and ladies mob aud scramble, and 
crowd aud bribe, and fight their way to the best 
I)laces they can obtain. 

' At the extremity of the great nave behind the 
altar, and mounted upon a tribune designed or 
ornamented by Michael Angelo, stands a sort of 
throne, composed of precious materials, and sup- 
ported by four gigantic figures. A glory of 
seraphim, with groups of angels, sheds a brilliant 
light upon its splendours. This throne enshrines 
the real, plain, worm-eaten, wooden chair, on 
which St Peter, the prince of the apostles, is said 
to have j)ontificated ; more precious than all the 
bronze, gold, and gems, with which it is hidden, 
not only from impious, but from holy eyes, 
and which once only, in the flight of ages, was 
profaned by mortal inspection.' 

Her ladyship then narrates how the French, 
when in occupation of Bome in the days of the 
first Napoleon, made an examination of the chair, 
aud found upon it the well-known confession of 
the Mahometan faith, ' There is bid one God, and 
MaJiomet is his 2yro2j]iet ;' whence it was inferred 
that the chair had been brought from the East in 
the middle ages, probably among the spoils of the 
Crusaders. But Lady Morgan here made a mis- 
take, the chair with the Mahometan inscription 
being iu reality one preserved iu similar cii'cum- 
stances at Venice. 

The saints referred to iu the second article of 
the list for this day appear to have been a group 
of missionaries, who went at an early but un- 
known period into Egypt to propagate the faith, 
and there became martyrs. St Deicolus or St 
Deel was an Irish priest, who spent his best days 
in France, and whose memory is preserved in 
Franche-comte, where his name Deel is stiU fre- 
quently given in baptism. 

Born. — Ch. Montesquieu, 16S9 ; Dr. John Gillies, his- 
torian, 1747. 

Dkd. — Archangelo Corelli, 1713 ; Sir Samuel Garth, 
1719 ; J. Baskerville, 1775 ; Sir John Pringle, 1782. 


The melancholy end of Archangelo Corelli, 
founder of the Boman or ancient school of 
violinists, is thought to have been hastened by 
the unfeeling treatment which he experienced 
from the King of Naples, and the successes of 
inferior Neapolitan artists. Their fiery genius 
presented a curious contrast to the meek, timid, 
and gentle character of Corelli, so analogous to 
the style of his music. He had published his 
admirable concertos but six weeks, when he fell 
into a state of melancholy and chagrin, aud died. 
He was buried in the church of Santa Maria 
della Botondo, iu the ancient Pantheon, where 




a mouument with a marble bust is erected to his 
memory, near tliat of llapliael. For many years 
after the decease of Corelli, a solemn service, 
consistiuG; of selections from his own works, was 
performed in the Pantheon, on the anniversary 
of his funeral ; and this solemnity continued so 
long as any of his immediate scholars survived 
to conduct the performance. One great point of 
Corelli's excellence was, the nice management of 
his band, their bows moving exactly together, so 
that at rehearsals he would immediately stop the 
band if he saw an irregidar bow. There was 
little or no melody in instrumental music before 
Corelli's time ; and though his productions have 
yielded to the siiperior genius and talents of 
Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and Cherubini, the 
works of Corelli are stiU admired for their grace 
and eloquence ; and they have continued longer 
in favour in England than in the great composer's 
own country, or, indeed, in any other part of 


John Baskerville, a native of Worcestershire, 
having acquired considei'able wealth by the 
japanning business at Birmingham, devoted him- 
self to the perfection of the art of printing, 
more particularly in the shape of the letters. 
He is said to have spent six hundred pounds 
before he could obtain a single letter to please him- 
self, and many thousands before he made a profit 
of his pursuit, which he prosecuted so ardently 
that he manufactured his OAvn printing-ink, 
presses, moulds for casting, and all the apparatus 
for printing. His typography is extremely beau- 
tiful, uniting the elegance of Plantin with the 
clearness of the Elzevirs ; in his Italic letters he 
stands unrivalled, such freedom and perfect 
symmetry being in vain to be looked for among 
the specimens of Aldus and Colinseus. He was 
a man of eccentric tastes ; he had each panel of 
his carriage painted with a picture of his trades. 
He was buried in his garden ; and in 1821, his 
remains being accidentally disturbed, the leaden 
coffin was opened, and the body was found in a 
singular state of preservation — the shroud was 
perfect and very white, and a branch of laurel 
on the breast of the corpse was, though faded, 


Died, on the 18th January 1797, Sarah 
Countess of Exeter, the heroine of a singular 
mesalliance. The story has been several times 
handled in both prose and verse. Tennyson 
tells it under the title o? The Lord of Burleigh, 
relating how, under the guise of a poor land- 
scape painter, Henry Cecil wooed a village 
maiden, and gained her hand ; how he conducted 
her on a tour, seeing 

' Parks Avith oak and cbesnut shady, 
Parks and ordered gardens great ; 
Ancient horae.s of lord aud lady, 
Built for plcasui'c or for state ;' 

until they came to a majestic mansion, where 
the domestics bowed before the young lover, 
whose wife then, for the first time, discovered his 

' All at once the colour flushes 

Her sweet face from brow to chin : 
As it were -with shame she blushes, 

And her spirit changed within. 
Then her countenance all over 

Pale again as death did prove : 
But he clasjicd her like a lover, 

And he cheered her soul with love. 
So she strove against her weakness, 

Though at times her spmts sank : 
Shaped her heart with woman's meelcnesSj 

To all duties of her rank. 
And a gentle consort made he, 

And her gentle mind was such, 
That she grew a noble lady, 

And the people loved her much. 
Biit a trouble weighed upon her. 

And perplexed her, night aud morn, 
With the burden of an honour 

Unto which she was not born. 
Faint she grew aud even fainter. 

As she mm-mured, " Oh that he 
Were once more that landscape painter, 

Which did win my heart fiom me ! " 
So she di'ooped aud drooped before him. 

Fading slowly from his side ; 
Three fair children first she bore him, 

Then before her time she died.' 

The real details of this romantic story are not 
quite so poetical as Mr Tennyson represents, but 
yet form a curious anecdote of aristocratic eccen- 
tricity. It appears that Mr Henry Cecil, while 
his uncle held the family titles, married a lady 
of respectable birth, from whom, after fifteen 
years of wedded life, he procured a divorce. 
Before that event, being troubled with heavy 
debts, he put on a disguise, and came to live 
as a poor and humble man, at Bolas Common, 
near Hodnet, an obscure village in Shropshire. 
No one came to inquire after him ; he had 
vanished from the gaze and the knowledge of all 
his relatives. He was known to none, and having 
no ostensible means of living, there were many 
surmises as to who and what he was. The gene- 
ral belief at one moment was, that he gained his 
bread as a highwayman. In anticipation of the 
divorce he paid addresses to a young lady of con- 
siderable attractions, named Taylor, who, however, 
being engaged, declined his hand. He lodged with 
a cottage labourer named Hoggins, whose daughter 
Sarah, a plain but honest girl, next drew the 
attention of the noble refugee. He succeeded, 
notwithstanding the equivocal nature of his cir- 
cumstances, in gaining her heart and hand. It 
has been set forth that Mr Cecil, disgusted with 
the character of his fashionable wife, resolved to 
seek some peasant mistress who should love him 
for his own sake alone ; but the probability is 
that the young noble was simply eccentric, or 
that a craving for sympathy in his solitary life 
had disposed him to take up with the first respect- 
able woman who should come in his way. Under 
the name of Mr John Jones, he purchased a 
piece of land near Hodnet, and built a hoitse 
upon it, in which he lived for some years with 
his peasant bride, who never all that time knew 
who he really was. It has been stated that 
he did not appear fastidious about what he did. 
He on one occasion gratified his father-in-law by 
carrying a large pig to be given as a present to 
a neighbouring sqixire. He took his turn of scr- 



vice in Iho vestry, in Avliicli duty, liaA^ng occasion 
to attend the Shrewsbury sessions, ho Avas noticed 
by a brother maijistrate, who liad been his school- 
feUow ; but it did not h>ad to a detection. He 
disappeared tor a short time occasionally, in order, 
as is supposed, to obtain supjilies of money. The 
marriage took place on the ;Jrd of October 1791, 
not long after tlie divorce of the first Mrs Henry 
Cecil was accomplished. 

Two years after the marriage (December 27, 
17l>3), Mr Cecil succeeded to the peerage and 
estates in consequence of the death of his xincle ; 
and it became necessary that he should quit his 
obscurity at Hodnet. Probably the removal of 
the pair to 13urleigh House, near Stamford, was 
eflected under the circumstances described by 
the Laureate. It is also true that the peasant 
countess did not prove quite up to the part she 
had been unwittingly drawn into. Being, as it 
chanced, a rudd^'-faced and rather robust woman,* 
she did not pine away in the manner described by 
Mr Tennyson ; but after having borne her hus- 
band three children (amongst whom was the peer 
who succeeded), she sickened and died, January 
18, 1797. The earl was afterwards created a 
marquis, married a third wife, the Dowager 
Duchess of Hamilton, and died in ISOli.f 


Examples of the Eed Men of North America — so 
absurdly called Indians — have at various times 
visited England. The readers of the Spectator 
will remember Addison's interesting account of 
four kings of the nations lying between New 
York and Canada, who came to London in 1710, 
and were introduced to Queen Anne. So lately 
as 1835, a party of the Michigan tribe, including 
the chief, Muk Coonee (the Little Boar), appeared 
amongst us, the object being a negotiation for the 
sale of certain lands. Arrangements were made 
for their being presented to King William on the 
18th of January; but the chief found on that day 
a very different affair on his hands. His squaw, 
the Diving 3£ouse, of only twenty-six years, 
sickened and on that day died, at the lodging 
which the party occupied in tlie Waterloo Eoad. 

When this lady of the wild felt a mortal sickness 
upon her, she refused all medicine, saying if the 
Great Spirit intended that she should then die, 
he would be angry at any attempt on her part to 
avert the doom. The only thing she would allow 
to be done for her was the administration of the 
rite of baptism, and this was only submitted 
to because she was told there might consequently 
be more ceremony at her funeral. Loud were 
the wailings of the chief and his friends round 
the couch of the dead squaw. 

When preparations were necessary for the 
funeral, he took a pride in making them as hand- 
some as he could. He placed her in a richly 

Such are the accounts usually given ; but in a por- 
trait of the noble pair, by Lawrence, kept in Burleigh 
House, the lady appears possessed of an oval countenance, 
of what we would call very considerable beauty, and the 
reverse of rustic in style. 

t Tennyson's Poems, 10th ed., p. 355. Notes and 
Queries, 1st sen, xii. 280, 355 ; 2nd ser., i. 437; ii. 457. 
Colllns's Peerage, by Brydges, ii. 609 

ornamented coffin, with a silver plate bearing an 
inscription. An elaborate shroud was laid over 
her Indian garments ; laurel leaves and a bouquet 
were placed on her breast ; her earrings were 
laden with ornaments ; her cheeks were painted 
red ; and a splendid Indian shawl was thrown 
over all. The funeral took place at St John's 
churchyard, in the Waterloo Eoad. The clergy- 
man read the service in the usual English form. 
The coffin was lowered, a white rose thrown upon 
it, and then the dull cold earth. Shaw Whash 
(' Big Sword') pronounced an oration in his native 
language ; and then the funeral cortege returned 
to the lodgings. The chief, with much dignity, 
addressed to the persons assembled a few words, 
which were translated by his French interpreter, 
M. Dunord. ' For three years prior to my visit 
to this country,' he said, ' I rested on the bosom 
of my wife in love and happiness. She was 
everything to me ; and such was my fear that 
illness or accident might part us in England, that 
I wished her to remain behind in our settlements. 
This she would not consent to, saying, " That I 
was all the world to her, and in life or death she 
would remain with me ! " We came, and I have 
lost her. She who was all my earthly happiness 
is now under the earth ; but the Great Spirit has 
placed her there, and my bosom is calm. I am 
not, I never was, a man of tears ; but her loss 
made me shed many.' 

This Avas not the last sorrow of poor Muk 
Coonee. A few days after the burial of the 
squaw, another of his companions was taken 
from him. This was ' Thunder and Lightning,' 
a young Indian about the same age as the squaw. 
He, in like manner, was baptized, and was buried 
in the same churchyard. It was observed that 
the chief had been looking anxiously around at 
various times during the ceremony ; and it now 
appeared that he entertained distrust as to 
Avhether the grave of his wife had been disturbed. 
He had in some way marked on or near her grave 
his totam, or symbol, something which would 
denote the tribe and rank of the deceased, and 
which was intended to secure inviolable respect 
for the sacred spot. Some of the appearances 
around led the poor fellow to suspect that the 
grave had been tampered with. Earnest were 
the endeavours made to assiire him that his fears 
were groundless, .and he at length was induced to 
believe that the grave of the 'Diving Mouse' had 
not been opened. 

Prussic Acid. — The peach (we gather from Dr 
Daubeny's Lectures on Roman Hushandrij) was 
brought from Persia, and Columella alludes to 
the fable of its poisonous qualities. ' Could this 
mistake arise,' asks Dr Daubeny, ' from a know- 
ledge of the poisonous properties of the prussic 
acid existing m the kernels of the peach ? ' It 
may be observed that a notion prevailed in Egypt, 
probably referring to the secret of the Psylli, that 
a citron eaten early in the morning was an anti- 
dote a^^ainst all kinds of poison. Its juice, in- 
i'ected into the veins, would have a similar effect. 
Blackberries, when perfectly ripe, were eaten by 
the Komans, and by the Greeks were considered 
a preventive of gout. 





Ss Marls, Martha, Audifax, and Abaclium, martyrs, 
270. St Lomer, 593. St Blaithmaic, abbot in Scotland, 
793. St Knut (Canutus), king of Denmark, martyr, 
1036. StWulstan, bishop of Worcester, 1095. St Henry 
of England, martyr in Finland, 1151. 


St Wulstan was the last saint of tlie Anglo- 
Saxon Church, the link between the old English 
Church and hierarchy and the Norman. He was 
a monk, indeed, and an ascetic ; still, his voca- 
tion lay not in the school or cloister, but among 
the people of the market-place and the village, 
and he rather dwelt on the great broad truths of 
the Gospel than followed them into their results. 
Though a thane's son, a series of unexpected cir- 
cumstances brought him into the religious profes- 
sion, and he became prior of a monastery at Wor- 
cester. Born at Long Itchington, in Warwick- 
shire, and educated at the monasteries of Evesham 
and Peterborough, the latter one of the richest 
houses and the most famous schools in England, 
he was thoughtful above his years, and volun- 
tarily submitted to exercises and self-denials 
from which other children were excused. To 
Wulstan, the holy monk, the proud Earl 
Harold once went thirty miles out of his way, 
to make his confession to him, and beg his 
prayers. He was a man of kind yet blunt and 
homely speech, and delighted in his devotional 
duties ; the common people looked upon him as 
tlieir friend, and he used to sit at the church 
door listening to complaints, redressing wrongs, 
helping those who were in trouble, and 
giving advice, spiritual and temporal. Every 
Sunday and great festival he preached to the 
people : his words seemed to be the voice of 
thunder, and he drew together vast crowds, 
wherever he had to dedicate a church. As an 
example of his practical preaching, it is related 
that, in reproving the greediness which was a 
common fault of that day, AVulstan confessed 
that a savory roast goose which was preparing 
for his dinner, had once so taken up his thoughts, 
that he could not attend to the service he was 
performing, but that he had punished himself 
for it, and given up the use of meat in conse- 

At length, in 10G2, two Eoman cardinals came 
to Worcester, with Aldred the late bishop, now 
Archbishop of York ; they spent the whole Lent 
at the Cathedral monastery, where Wulstan was 
prior, and they were so impressed with his austere 
and hard-working way of life, that partly by 
their recommendation, as well as the popular 
voice at Worcester, Wulstan was elected to the 
vacant bishopric. He heard of this with sorrow 
and vexation, declaring that he would rather lose 
his head than be made a bishop ; but he yielded 
to the stern rebuke of an aged hermit, and re- 
ceived the pastoral staff from the hands of 
Edward the Confessor. Tlie Normans, when 
they came, thought him, like his church, old- 
fashioned and homely ; but they admired, though 

in an Englishman, his unworldly and active life, 
which was not that of study and tlioughtful 
retirement, but of ministering to the common 
people, supplying the deficiencies of the paro- 
chial clergy, and preaching. He rode on horse- 
back, with his retinue of clerks and monks, 
through his diocese, repeating the Psalter, the 
Litanies, and the office for the dead ; his cham- 
berlain always Jiad a purse ready, and ' no one 
ever begged of Wulstan in vain.' In these pro- 
gresses ho came into personal contact with all 
his flock, high and low — with the rude crowds, 
beggars and serfs, craftsmen and labourers, as 
well as with priests and nobles. But everything 
gave way to his confirming children — from 
sunrise to sunset he would go without tasting 
food, blessing batch after batch of the little 

Wulstan was a great church builder : he took 
care that on each of his own manors there should 
be a church, and he urged other lords to follow 
his example. He rebuilt the cathedral of his 
see, and restored the old ruined church of West- 
bury. When his new cathedral was ready for 
use, the old one built by St Oswald was to be 
demolished ; Wulstan stood in the churchyard 
looking on sadly and silently, but at last burst 
into tears at this destruction, as he said, of the 
work of saints, who knew not how to build fine 
churches, but knew how to sacrifice themselves 
to God, whatever roof might be over them. 

Still, with a life of pastoral activity, Wulstan 
retained the devotional habits of the cloister. 
His first words on awaking were a psalm; and 
some homily or legend was read to him as he lay 
down to rest. He attended the same services as 
when in the monastery; and each of his manor 
houses had a little chapel, where he used to lock 
himself in to pray in spare hours. 

It cannot be said of Wulstan that he was 
much of a respecter of persons. He had rebuked 
and warned the headstrong Harold, and he was 
not less bold before his more imperious successor. 
At a council in Winchester, he bluntly called 
upon William to restore to the see some lands 
which he had seized. He had to fight a stouter 
battle with Lanfranc, who, ambitious of deposing 
him for incapacity and ignorance, in a synod held 
before the king, called upon the bishop to deliver 
up his pastoral stafl'and ring; when, according to 
the legend, Wulstan drove the stafi* into the stone 
of the tomb of the Confessor, where it re- 
mained fast imbedded, notwithstanding the 
eflorts of the Bishop of Eochester, Lanfranc, and 
the king himself, to remove it, which, however, 
Wulstan easily did, and thenceforth was recon- 
ciled to Lanfranc ; and they subsequently co- 
operated in destroying a slave trade which had 
long been carried on by merchants of Bristol 
with Ireland. 

Wulstan outlived William and Lanfranc. He 
passed his last Lent with more than usual 
solemnity, on his last Maundy washing the feet 
and clothes of the poor, bestowing alms and 
ministering the cup of ' charity ;' then supplying 
them, as they sat at his table, with shoes and 
victuals ; and finally reconciling penitents, and 
washing the feet of his brethren of the convent. 
On Easter-day, he again feasted with the poor. 


ja:mi:s watt. 



At AYhitsuntido following, being taken ill, lie 
pvepavcd for death, but lie lingered till tlie first 
day of the ue^v year, -nhen he finally took to his 
bed. ]Ie was laid so as to have a view of the 
altar of a ehapel, and thus he followed the psalms 
whieh were sung. On the 19th of January 1095, 
at midnight, he died in the eighty-seventh year of 
his age, "and the thirty-third of his episcopate. 
Contrary to the usual custom, the body was laid 
out, arranged in the episcopal vestments and 
crosier, before the high altar, that the people of 
"Worcester might look once more on their good 
bishop. His stone coffin is, to this day, shewn 
in the presbytery of the cathedral, the crypt and 
early Norman portions of which are the work of 

Bom. — Nicholas Copernicus, 1472 ; James Watt, 1736. 

i)ic(/.— Charles Earl of Dorset, 1706 ; William Con- 
grcve, poet, 1729; Thomas Ruddiman, grammarian, 1757 ; 
Isaac Disraeli, miscellaneous writer, 1848. 


James Watt was, as is well known, a native of 
the then small seaport of Greenock, on the Firth 
of Clyde. His grandfather was a teacher of 
mathematics. His father was a builder and con- 
tractor — also a merchant, — a man of superior 
sagacity, if not ability, prudent and benevolent. 
The mother of Watt was noted as a woman of 
fine aspect, and excellent judgment and conduct. 
When boatswains of ships came to the father's 
shop for stores, he was in the habit of throwing 
in an extra c[uantity of sail-needles and twine, 
with the remark, ' See, take that too ; I once lost 
a ship for want of such articles on board.' f The 
young mechanician received a good elementary 
education at the schools of his native town. It 
was by the overpowering bent of his own mind 
that he entered life as a mathematical-instrument- 

When he attempted to set tip in that business 
at Glasgow, ho met with an obstruction from the 
corporation of Hammermen, who looked upon 
him as an intruder upon their privileged ground. 
The world might have lost Watt and his inven- 
tions through this unworthy cause, if he had not 
had friends among the professors of the Uni- 
versity, — Muirhead, a relation of his mother, 
and Anderson, the brother of one of his dearest 
school-friends, — by whose influence he was fur- 
nished with a workshop within the walls of the 
college, and invested with the title of its instru- 
ment-maker. Anderson, a man of an advanced and 
liberal mind, was Professor of Natural Philosophy, 
and had, amongst his class apparatus, a model of 
Newcomen's steam-engine. He required to have 
it repaired, and put it into Watt's hands for the 
purpose. Through this trivial accident it was 
that the young mechanician was led to make that 
improvement of the steam-engine which gave a 
new power to civilized man, and has revolutionised 
tho world. The model of Newcomen has very 

* The writer of this article acknowledges his obliga- 
tions to the Li,)es of English Saints, 1844. 

t Williamson's Memorials of James Watt. 4to, 1856. 
p. 155 


fortunately been preserved, and is now in the 
Hunterian Museum at Glasgow College. 


Watt's career as a mechanician, in connection 
with Mr Boulton, at the Soho Works, near Bir- 
mingham, was a brilliant one, and ended in raising 
him and his family to fortune. Yet it cannot be 
heard without pain, that a sixth or seventh part 
of his time was diverted from his proper pursuits, 
and devoted to mere ligitatiou, rendered unavoid- 
able by the incessant invasions of his patents. 

He was often considted about supposed inven- 
tions and discoveries, and his invariable rule was 
to recommend that a model should be formed and 
tried. This he considered as the only true test 
of the value of any novelty in mechanics. 


Congreve died at his house in Surrey-street, 
Strand, from an internal injury received in being 
overturned in his chariot on a journey to Bath — 
after having been for several years afflicted with 
blindness and gout. Here he was visited by 
Voltaire, who had a great admiration of him as a 
writer. ' Congreve spoke of his works,' says Vol- 
taire, ' as of trifles that were beneath him, and 
hinted to me, in our first conversation, that I 
should visit him on no other footing than upon 
that of a gentleman who led a life of plainness 
and simplicity. I answered, thai, had lie hcen so 
vvfortimate as to he a mere gentleman, I should 
never have come to see him ; and I was very 




mueh disgusted at so unreasonable a piece of 

This is a flue rebuke. 

Congreve's remains lay in state in the Jerusalem 
Chamber, and he was buried in Westminster 
Abbey, where a monument was erected to his 
memory by Henrietta, Duchess of Marlborough, 
to whom he bequeathed £10,000, the accumulation 
of attentive parsimony. The Duchess purchased 
with £7,000 of the legacy a diamond necklace. 
' How much better,' says Dr Young, ' it would 
have been to have given the money to Mrs Brace- 
girdle, with whom Congreve was very intimate 
for years ; yet still better would it have been to 
have left the money to his poor relations in want 
of it.' 


Few miscellanies have approached the popu- 
larity enjoyed by the Curiosities of Literature, 
the work by which Mr Disraeli is best known. 
This success may be traced to the circumstances 
of his life, as well as his natural abilities, favour- 
ing the production of exactly such a work. 
When a boy, he was sent to Amsterdam, and 
placed under a preceptor, who did not take the 
trouble to teach him anything, but turned him 
loose into a good library. Nothing* could have 
been better suited to his taste, and before he was 
fifteen he had read the works of Voltaire and 
dipped into Bayle. When he was eighteen he 
returned to England, half mad with the senti- 
mental philosophy of Eousseau. He declined to 
enter mercantile life, for which his father had 
intended him; he then went to Paris, and stayed 
there, chiefly living in the public libraries until 
a short time before the outbreak of the French 
Eevolution. Shortly after his return to England 
he wrote a poem on the Abuse of Satire, levelled 
at Peter Pindar : it was successful, and made 
Disraeli's name known. In about two years, after 
the reading of Andi'ews's Anecdotes, Disraeb re- 
marked that a very interesting miscellany might 
be drawn up by a weU-read man from the library 
in which he lived. It was objected that such 
a work would be a mere compilation of dead 
matter, and uninteresting to the public. Disraeli 
thought otherwise, and set about preparing a 
volume from collections of the French Ana, the 
author adding as much as he was able from 
English literature. This volume he called 
Curiosities of Literature. Its great success in- 
duced him to piiblish a second volume ; and after 
these volumes had reached a fifth edition, he 
added three more. He then suffered a long illness, 
but his literary habits were never laid aside, and 
as often as he was able he worked in the morning 
in the British Mixseum, and in his own library at 
night. He published works of great historical 
research, including the Life and Reign of Charles I. 
in five volumes, and the Amenities of Literature in 
tliree volumes ; but the great aim of his life was' 
to write allistoiyj of LJnglish Literature, of which 
tlie Amenities were to be the materials. His 
literary career was cut short in 1839 by a para- 
lysis of the optic nerve. He died at the age of 
eighty-two, retaining to tlie last, his sweetness 
and serenity of temper and cheerfulness of mind. 
Shortly before, his son wrote, for a new edition of 

tlie Curiosities of Literature, a memoir of the 
author, in which he thus happily sketched the 
features of his father's character : 

' He was himself a complete literary character, 
a man who really passed his life in his library. 
Even marriage produced no change in these 
habits ; he rose to enter the chamber wliere he 
lived alone with his books, and at night his lamp 
was ever lit within the same walls. Nothing, 
indeed, was more remarkable than the isolation 
of this prolonged existence ; and it could only be 
accounted for by the united influences of three 
causes : his birth, which brought him no relations 
or family acquaintance ; the bent of his disposi- 
tion ; and the circumstance of his inheriting an 
independent fortune, which rendered unnecessary 
those exertions that would have broken up his 
self-reliance. He disliked business, and he never 
requu'ed relaxation ; he was absorbed in his pur- 
suits. In London his only amusement was to 
ramble among booksellers ; if he entered a 
club, it was only to go into the library. In tlie 
country, he scarcely ever left his room but to 
saunter in abstraction upon a terrace ; muse over 
a chapter, or coin a sentence. He had not a 
single passion or prejudice ; all his convictions 
were the result of his own studies, and were 
often opposed to the impressions which he had 
early imbibed. He not only never entered into 
the politics of the day, but he could never under- 
stand them. He never was connected with any 
particular body or set of men ; comrades of 
school or college, or confederates in that public 
life which, in England, is, perhaps, the only 
foundation of real friendship. In the considera- 
tion of a question, his mind was quite undisturbed 
by traditionary preconceptions ; and it was this 
exemption from passion and prejudice which, 
although his intelligence was naturally somewhat 
too ingenious and fanciful for the conduct of 
close argument, enabled him, in investigation, 
often to shew many of the highest attributes ot 
the judicial mind, and particularly to sum up 
evidence with singular happiness and ability.' 


Died at Ghent, of a broken heart, January 19, 
1525, Isabel of Austria, Queen of Denmark, a 
'nursing mother' of the Iveformation. Isabel 
was the second daughter of Philip the Fair of 
Austria, and Juana la Loca, the first Queen of 
Spain. She was born at Brussels in 1501, and 
married at Malines, August 12, 1515, to Chris- 
tiern of Denmark, who proved little less than 
her murderer. When he, ' the Nero of the North,' 
was deposed by his infuriated subjects, she fol- 
lowed him into exile, soothed him and nursed 
him, for which her only reward was cruel neglect, 
and, some add, more cruel treatment, descending 
even to blows. The frail body which shrined the 
bright, loving spirit, was soon worn out ; and 
Isabel died, as above stated, aged only twenty- 
four years. 

It will be seen that the Queen spells her name 
Elizabeth, probably as more consonant with 
Danish ideas, for she was baptized after her 
grandmother, Isabel tho Catholic. It is well 





known that our ant-estors (mistakenly) considcrod 
ElizaLetk and Isabel ideutieal. The autoj^rapk 

here given is from the Cotton MSS. (Brit. Mus.) 
Yesp. l'\ III. 

Scarhoroufih Warnhi;/. — Toby Matthew, Bishop of 
Durham, in the postcriiit of a letter to the Archbishop 
of York, dated January 19, 1G03, says : 'When I was 
in the midst of this discourse, I received a message 
from my Lord Chamberlain, that it was his Majesty's 
pleasure that I shoidd preach before him on Sunday 
next; which Scarhorough learning did not only perplex 
me, &c. ' ' Scarborough warning ' is alluded to in a 
ballad by Heywood, as referring to a summary mode 
of dealing with suspected thieves at that place ; l>y 
Fuller, as taking its rise in a sudden surprise of Scar- 
borough Castle by Thomas Stafford in 1557 ; and it is 
quoted in Harrington's old translation of Ariosto— 

' Thoy took them to a fort, with such small treasure, 
As in to Scarborow warning they had leasure.' 

There is considerable likeliliood that the whole of 
these writers are mistaken on the subject. In the 
parish of Anwoth, in the stewartry of Kirkcudbright, 
there is a rivulet called Shyrehiuii, which usually 
appears as gentle and innocent as a child, being just 
sufficient to drive a mill; but fron) having its origin in 
a spacious bosom of the neighbouring hills, it is liable, 
on an}' ordinary fall of rain, to come down suddenly in 
prodigious volume and vehemence, carrying away hay- 
ricks, washings of clothes, or anjiihing else that may 
be exposed on its banks. The abruptness of the 
danger has given rise to a proverbial expression, gene- 
rally used throughout the south-west province of Scot- 
land, — Skyrehiirn ivarning. It is easy to conceive that 
this local phrase, when heard south of the Tweed, 
woidd be mistaken iov Scarhorongh ivarning ; in which 
case, it would he only too easy to imagine an origin for 
it connected with that Yorkshire watering-place. 

Shalcspeare' s GeograjMcal Knowledge. — The great 
dramatist's unfortunate slip in representing, in liis 
Winter's Tale, a shipwrecked party landing in Bohe- 
mia, has been palliated by the discovery which some 
one has made, that Bohemia, in the thirteenth cen- 
tury, had dependencies extending to the sea-coast. But 
the only real palliation of which the case is suscep- 
tible, lies in the history of the origin of the play. Om* 
gi'eat bard, in this case, took his story from a novel 
named Pandosto. In doing so, for some reason which 
probably seemed to him good, he transposed the re- 
spective circvunstances said to have taken place in 
Sicily and Bohemia, and, simply through advertence, 
failed to observe that what was suitable for an island 
like Sicily was unsuitable for an inland coimtry hke 

Shakspeare did not stand alone in his defective 
geographical knowledge. We learn from his con- 
temporary, Lord Herbert of Cherbury, that Luines, the 
Prime Minister of France, when there was a question 

made about some business in Bohemia, asked whether 
it was an inland country, or lay upon the sea. 

We ought to remember that in the beginning of the 
seventeenth century, from the limited intercourse and 
interdependence of nations, there was much less 
occasion for geographical knowledge than there now 
is, and the means of obtaining it were also intinitely 



St Fabian, pope, 250. St Sebastian, 288. St Eutby- 
mius, 473. St Fechin, abbot in Ireland, 664. 
St Fabian is a saint of the English calendar. 

Born. — Frederick, Prince of Wales, 1707, Hanover; 
Jean Jacques Bartlielemy, 1716, Cassis. 

Died— Cardinal Bembo, 1547; Rodolph H., emperor, 
1612; Cbarle?, first Duke of Mancliester, 1722; Charles 
VII., emperor, 1745; Sir James Fergusson, 1759; Lord 
Chancellor Yorke, 1770; David Garrick, 1779; John 
Howard, 1790. 


This extraordinary ■woman, daughter of Pliilip 
II. of Spain and queen of Louis XIII., exercised 
great influence upon the fortunes of France, at a 
critical period of its history ; thus in part making 
good the witty saying, — that when queens reign, 
men govern ; and that when kings govern, women 
eventually decide the course of events. Soon 
after the marriage of Anne, the administration 
fell into the hands of Cardinal Richelieu, who 
took advantage of the coldness and gravity of 
the queen's demeanour to inspire Louis with dis- 
like and jealousy. Induced by him to believe 
that the queen was at the head of a conspiracy 
to get rid of him, Louis compelled her to 
answer the charge at the council table, when 
her dignity of character came to her aid; 
and she obseiwed contemptuously, that ' too 
little was to be gained by the change to render 
such a design on her part probable.' Alienated 
from the king's affection and council, the c|ueen 
remained without influence till death took away 
monarch and minister and left to Anne, as mother 
of the infant monarch (Louis XIV.), the undis- 
puted reins of power. With great discernment, 
she chose for her minister, Mazariu, who was 




CTitirely dependent upon lioi', and uhose abilities 
she made use of without being in danger from his 
ambition. But the minister became unpopular: 
a successful insurrection ensued, and Anne and 
the court -were detained for a time prisoners in 
the Palais Eoyal, by the mob. The Spanish 
pride of the queen was compelled to submit, and 
the people had their will. But a civil war soon 
commenced between Anne, her ministers and 
their adherents, on one side ; and the noblesse, 
the citizens and people of Paris, on the other. 
The former triumphed, and hostilities were sus- 
pended ; but the war again broke out : the 
court had secured a defender in Turenne, who 
triumphed over the young noblesse headed by 
the great Conde ! The nobles and middle classes 
were never afterwards able to raise their heads, 
or offer resistance to the royal power up to the 
period of the great Revolution ; so that Anne of 
Austria may be said to have founded absolute 
monarchy in France, and not the subsequent 
imperiousness of Louis XIV. Anne's portrait in 
the Vienna gallery shews her to have been of 
pleasing exterior. Her Spanish haughtiness and 
love of ceremonial were impressed by education 
upon the mind of her sou, Louis XIV., who bears 
the blame and the credit of much that was his 
mother's. She died at the age of sixty-four. 


Garrick, who 'never had his equal as an actor, 
and will never have a rival,' at Christmas 1778. 
while on a visit to Lord Spencer, at Althorpe, had 
a severe fit, from which he only recovered suffi- 
ciently to enable him to return to town, where 
he expired on the 20th of January 1779, in his 
own house, in the centre of the Adelphi Terrace,* 
in his sixty -third year. Dr Johnson said, 'his 
death eclipsed the gaiety of nations.' Walpole, 
in the opposite extreme: 'Garrick is dead; 
not a public loss ; for he had quitted the stage.' 
Garrick's remains lay in state at his house pre- 
vious to their interment in Westminster Abbey, 
with great pomp : there were not at Lord Chat- 
ham's funeral half the noble coaches that attended 
Garrick's, which is attributable to a political 
cause. Burke was one of the mourners, and 
came expressly from Portsmouth to follow the 
great actor's remains. 


This successful architect died at his house in 
Lincoln's Inn Fields, surrounded by the collec- 
tion of antiquities and artistic treasures which he 
bequeathed to the British nation, as "the Soanean 
Museum." He was a man of exquisite taste, but 
of most irritable temperament, and the tardy 
settlement of the above bequest to the country 
was to him a matter of much annoyance. His 
remains rest in the burial-ground of St Giles's-in- 
the-Fields, St Pancras, where two tall cypresses 
overshadow his tomb. At his death, the trustees 
appointed by parliament took charge of the 
Museum, library, books, prints, manuscripts, 

* The ceiling of the front drawing-room was painted hy 
Antonio Zucchi, A.Il. A. : the cliimney-picce is said to 
have cost £300. Garrick died in the back drawing-room, 
and his widow in the same house and room in 1822. 

drawings, maps, models, plans and works of art, 
and the house and offices ; xjroviding for the 
admission of amateurs and students in painting, 
sculpture, and architecture ; and general visitors. 
The entire collection cost Soane upwards of 


It was a great date for England, that of the 
First Parliament. There had been a Council of 
the great landholders, secular and ecclesiastic, 
from Anglo-Saxon times ; and it is believed by 
some that the Commons were at least occasionally 
and to some extent represented in it. But it was 
during a civil war, which took place in the middle 
of the thirteenth century, marvellousl}^ like that 
which marked the middle of the seventeenth, 
being for law against arbitrary royal power, that 
the first parliaments, properly so called, were 
assembled. Matthew of Paris, in his Chronicle, 
first uses the ^vord in reference to a council 
of the barons in 124.G. At length, in December 

1264, Avhen that extraordinary man, Simon de 
Montfort Earl of Leicester — a mediasval Crom- 
well — held the weak King Henry III. in his 
power, and was really the head of the state,' 
a parliament was summoned, in which there 
should be two knights for each county, and two 
citizens for every borough ; the first clear acknow- 
ledgment of the Commons' element in the state. 
This parliament met on the 20th of January 

1265, in that magnificent hall at AVestminster * 
which still survives, so interesting a monument 
of many of the most memorable events of English 
history. The representatives of the Commons 
sat in the same place with their noble associates, 
probably at the bottom of the hall, little disposed 
to assert a controlling voice, not joining indeed 
in any vote, for we hear of no such thing at first, 
and far of course from having any adequate sense 
of the important results that were to flow from 
their apjiearing there that day. There, however, 
they were — an admitted Power, entitled to be 
consulted in all great national movements, and, 
above all, to have a say in the matter of taxation. 
The summer months saw Leicester overpowered, 
and himself and nearly all his associates slaugh- 
tered ; many changes afterwards took place in the 
constitutional system of the country; but the 
Commons, once allowed to play a part in these 
great councils, were never again left out. Strange 
that other European states of high civilization 
and intelligence should be scarcely yet ari'ived 
at a principle of popular representation, which 
England, in comparative barbai'ism, realised for 
herself six centuries ago ! 

JAN. 20, 1838. 

Notwithstanding the dictum of M. Arago, that 
' whatever may be the progress of the sciences, 
never will observers avIio are trustworthy and 
careful of their reputation, venture to foretell the 
state of the weather,' — this pretension received 
a singular support in the winter of 1838. This 
was the first year in which the noted Mr Mvirphy 

* Fabyan's Chronicle, i, 35G. 



piiblislied liis Weather Almanac; wherein^ liis 
iiulication for the 20tli day of January is ' Pair. 
Prob. lowest deg. of Winter temp.' ]3y a lia^ipy 
chanee for him.' this ])roved to be a remarkal)ly 
cold day. At sunrise, the thermometer stood at 
•i' below zero : at 9 a.m.. +6°; at 12 (noon), +l'i°; 
at 2 p.m., 1(5 j-°; and then increased to 17°, the 
higliest in the day ; the wind veering from the 
cast to the south. 

The popular sensation of course reported that 
the lowest dei::;ree of temperature for the season 
appeared to have been reached. The supposition 
was proved by other signal circumstances, and 
partieuharly the eflccts seen in the vegetable 
kingdom. In all the nursery-grounds about 
London, the half-hardy, shrubby plants were 
more or less injured. Herbaceous plants alone 
seemed little aiiceted, in consequence, perhaps, 
of the protection they received from the snowy 
covering of the ground. 

Two things may be here remarked, as being al- 
most unprecedented in the annals of meteorology 
in this country: first, the thermometer below zero 
for some hours ; and secondly, a rapid change of 
nearlj'- fifty-six degrees. — Correspondent of tlie 
Fhilosophical Magazine, 1838. 

Still, there was nothing very remarkable in 
Miu'phy's indication, as the coldest day in the 
year is generally about this time (January 20). 
Nevertheless, it was a fortunate hit for the 
weather prophet, who is said to have cleared 
£3tX)0 by that year's almanac ! 

It may amuse the reader to sec what were the 
rcsxilts of Murphy's predictions throughout the 
year 1838: 


■wrong days. 

Jannaiy, pai 
February . 

•tly right on 

2,3 . 

8 . 

. 8 
, 20 


11 . 

. 20 


15 . 

. 15 


12 . 

18 . 

. 19 
. 12 



10 . 
15 . 

. 20 
. 15 

September . 

15 . 
11 . 

. 15 

. 20 

November . 

14 . 

. 16 

Decemljcr . 

15 . 

. 10 

In Haj-dn's Dictionary of Dales it is recorded : 
' Perhaps the coldest day ever known in London 
was December 25, 1796, when the thermometer 
was 16° below zero;' but contemporary authority 
for this statement is not given. 


This seems a fair opportunity of adverting to 
the winter amusement of skating, which is not 
only an animated and cheerful exercise, but 
susceptible of many demonstrations which may 
be called elegant. Holland, which with its exten- 
sive water surfaces affords such peculiar facilities 
for it, is usually looked to as the home and birth- 
place of skating; and we do not hear of it in 
England till the thirteenth century. In the 
former country, as has been remarked"in an early 
page of this volume, the use of skates is in great 
favour ; and it is even taken advantage of as a 

means of travelling, market-women having been 
known, for a prize, to go in this manner thirty 
miles in two hours. Opportunities for the exer- 
cise are, in Britain, more limited. Nevertheless, 
wherever a piece of smooth water exists, the due 
freezing of its surface never fails to bring forth 
hordes of enterprising youth to enjoy this truly 
inviting sport. 

Skating has had its bone age before its iron one. 
Fitzstephen, in his History of London, tells us 
that it was customaiy in the twelfth century 
for the young men to fasten the leg-bones of 
animals under their feet by means of thongs, and 
slide along the ice, pushing themselves by means 
of an iron-shod pole. Imitating the chivalric 
fashion of the tournament, they would start in a 
career against each other, meet, use their poles 
for a push or a blow, ■when one or other was 
jiretty siu'e to be hurled down, and to slide a long 
way in a prostrate condition, probably with some 
considerable hurt to his person, which we may 
hope was generally borne Avith good humour. In 
Moorfields and about Finsbury, specimens of 
these primitive skates have from time to time been 
exhumed, recalling the time when these were 
marshy fields, which in winter were resorted to liy 
the youth of London for the amusements which 
Fitzstephen describes. A pair preserved in the 
British Museum is here delineated. 


The iron age of skating — whenever it might 
come — was an immense stride in advance. A pair 

JANUAllY 20. 

of iron skates, made in tlie best modern fasliion, 
fitted exactly to the Icugtli of the foot, and, well 
fastened on, must be admitted to be an instrument 
satisfactorily adapted for its purxoose. With un- 
skilled skaters, who constitute the great multitude, 
even that simple onward movement in which they 
indulge, using the inner edge of the skates, is 
something to be not lightly appreciated, seeing 
that few movements are more exhilarating. But 
this is but the walk of the art. What may be 

called the dance is a very different thing. The 
highly trained skater aims at performing a series 
of movements of a graceful kind, which may be 
looked upon with the same pleasure as we 
experience from seeing a fine picture. Throwing 
himself on the ouie>' edge of his instrument, 
poising himself out of the perpendicular line in 
'attitudes which set off a handsome person to un- 
common advantage, he performs a series of curves 
within a certain limitecl space, cuts the figure 8, 



(he figure 3, or the circle, worms and screws back- 
wards and forwards, or with a group of companions 
goes through what he calls waltzes and quadrilles. 
The calmness and serenity of these movements, 
the perfect self-possession evinced, the artistic 
grace of the whole exhibition, are sure to attract 
bystanders of taste, including examples of the 
fair, — 

' whose bright eyes 

llain influence.' 

Most such performers belong to skating clubs, — 
fraternities constituted for the cultivation of the 
art as an art, and to enforce proper regulations. 
In Edinburgh, there is one such society of old 
standing, whose favourite gi-ouud is Duddinp'ston 
Loch, under the august shadow of Arthur's Seat. 
The Avriter recalls with pleasure skating exhibi- 
tions which he saw there in the hard winters early 
in the present century, when Henry Cockburn 

and the philanthropist James Simpson were con- 
spicuous amongst the most accomplished of the 
club for their handsome figures and great skill in 
the art. The scene of that loch ' in full bearing,' 
on a clear winter day, with its busy stirring 
multitude of sliders, skaters, and curlers, the 
snowy hills around ^'listening in the sun, the ring 
of the ice, the shouts of the careering youth, the 
rattle of the curling stones and the sJiouts of the 
players, once seen and heard, could never be 

In London, the amusements of the ice are chiefly 
practised upon the artificial pieces of water in the 
parks. On Sunday the Gth of January 18GI, 
during" an uncommonly severe frost, it was calcu- 
lated that of sliders and skaters, mostly of the 
humbler grades of the population, there were 
about GOOO in St James's Park, 4000 on the Eound 
Pond in Kensington Gardens, 25,000 in the Pc- 
gent's Park, and 30,000 on the Serpentine in 





Hyde Park. There "was, of course, the usual 
proportion of lieavy falls, awkward collisions. 
and occasional immersions, but all borne f;ood- 
Lumourcdly, and none attended with fatal conse- 
quences. During the ensuing week the same 
pieces of ice Avere crowded, not only all the 
daj'. but by night also, torclies being used to 
illuminate the scene, which was one of the greatest 
animation and gaiet}'. On three occasions there 
were refreshment tents on the ice, with gay flags, 
variegated lamps, and occasional fire-works ; and 
it seemed as if half London had come to look on 
from the neighbouring walks and drives. 

In these ice-festivals, as usually presented in 
London, there is not much elegant skating to be 
seen. The attraction of the scene consists mainly 
in the inlinite appearances of mirth and enjoy- 
ment which meet the gaze of the observer. 

The same frost period occasioned a very re- 
markable aiiair of skating in Lincolnshire. Three 
companies of one of the llifle Volunteer regiments 
of that county assembled on the "Witham, below 
the Stamp End Loch (December 29, 18G0), and 
had what might be called a skating parade of 
several hours on the river, performing various 
evolutions and movements in an orderly manner, 
and on some occasions attaining a speed of four- 
teen miles an hour. In that province, pervaded as 
it is by waters, it was thought possible that, on 
some special occasion, a rendezvous of the local 
troops might be effected with unusual expedition 
in this novel way. 

The feast of St Agnes was formerly held as in 
a special degree a holiday for Avomen. It was 
thought possible for a girl, on the eve of St Agnes, 
to obtain, by divination, a knowledge of her future 
husband. She might take a row of pins, and pluck- 
ing them out one after another, stick them in her 
sleeve, singing the whilst a paternoster ; and thus 
insure that her dreams would that night present 
the person in question. Or, passing into a dif- 
ferent country from that of her ordinary resi- 
dence, and taking her right-leg stocking, she 
might knit the left garter round it, repeating : — 

' I kuit this knot, this knot I knit, 
To know the thing I know not yet, 
That I may see 

The man that shall my husband be, 
Not in his best or worst arraj^, 
But -what he weareth every day ; 
That I to-morrow may him ken 
From among all other men.' 

Lying down on her back that night, with her 
hands under her head, the anxious maiden was 
led to expect that her future spouse would appear 
in a dream and salute her with a kiss. 

On this superstition, John Keats founded his 
beautiful poem, The Eve of St Agnes, of which the 
essence here follows : — 

' They told her how, upon St Agucs's Eve, 
Young A-irgins miglit have visions of delight. 
And soft adorings from their loves receive 
Upon the honey'd middle of the night, 
If ceremonies due they did arif'ht : 
140 J = . 

As, suppcrless to bed they must retire. 
And couch supine their beauties, lily white ; 
Nor look beliind, nor sideways, but require 

Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire. 
****** * 
' Out went the taper as she hurried in ; 
Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died : 
She closed tlie door, she panted, all akin 
To spirits of tlie air, and visions wide. 
No nttcr'd syllaljle, or, woe betide ! 
But to her heart, her heart was voluble. 
Paining with eloquence her balmy side ; 
As though a tongueless nightingale should swell 

Iler throat in vain, and die, heart-stitied, in her dell. 

' A casement high and triple arch'd there was, 
All garlanded with carven imag'rics 
Of fruits, and iiowers, and bunches of knot grass, 
And diamonded with panes of quaint device 
lumunerable of stains and sjilendid dyes. 
As are the tiger-moth's deep damask'd wings; 
And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries. 
And twilight saints, with dim cmblazonings, 
A shielded 'scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and 

' Fidl on this casement shone the wintry moon, 
And threw warm gides on Madeline's fair breast. 
As down she knelt for Heaven's grace and boon ; 
Eose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, 
And on her silver cross soft amethyst. 
And on her hair a glory, like a saint. 

Her vespers done. 
Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees ; 
Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one ; 
Loosens her fragrant bodice ; by degrees 
Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees : 
Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed. 
Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, 
Infancy, fair St Agnes in her bed, 

But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled. 
' Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, 
In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex'd she lay ; 
Until the jjoppied warmth of sleep oppress'd 
Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away ; 
Flown, like a thought, until the morrow day. 
Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain ; 
Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray ; 
Bhnded alike from siuishiue and from rain. 

As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again. 

' Stol'n to this paradise, and so entranced, 
Porphyro gazed upon her empty dress. 
And listened to her breathinar. 

He took her hollow lute, — 
Tamidtuous,— and, in chords that teuderest be. 
He played an ancient ditty, long since mute. 
In Provence call'd "La belle dame sans mercy :" 
Close to her ear touching the melody ; — 
Wherewith disturb'd, she nttcr'd a soft moan : 
He ceased — she panted quick — and suddenly 
Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone : 
Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured 

' Her eyes w'ere open, but she still beheld, 
Now wide awake, the vision of her sleej) : 
There was a painful change, that nigh expcU'd 
The blisses oi her dream so pure and deeji, 
At which fair Madeline began to weep. 
And moan forth witless words with many a sifdi ; 
While still her gaze on Porphyro woidd keep ; 
Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye. 
Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreaming] y. 




" Ah, Porphyro !" said she, "but even now 
Thy voice <it sweet tremble in mine ear, 
]\Iade tuneable with every sweetest vow ; 
And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear : 
How changed thou art! how pallid, chill, and 

drear ! 
Give me that voice again, my Porphyro, 
Those looks immortal, those complainings dear! 
Oh, leave me not in this eternal woe, 
For if thou diest, my love, I know not where to go." 
* Beyond a mortal man inipassion'd far 
At these voluptuous accents, he arose. 
Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star, 
Seen 'mid the sapphire heaven's deej") repose, 
Into her dream he melted, as the rose 
Blendeth its odour with the \'iolet, — 
Solution sweet : meantime the frost- wind blows, 
Like Love's alarimi pattering the sharp sleet 
Against the window-jianes. 

*' Hark ! 'tis an elfin-storm from faery land, 
Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed. 
Arise — arise ! the morning is at hand ; — 
Let us away, my love, with happy speed. — 

And they are gone : ay, ages long ago 
These lovers fled away into the storm. ' 


St Fructuosus, 2.59. St Agnes, virgin-martyr, 304 or 
305. St Epiphanius, 497. St Vimin, or Vivian (?), 
615. St Publius. 


St Agnes — tlian wliom there is no saint more 
revered by the llomish church— is usually de- 
scribed as a young Eoman girl, who suffered 
savage persecution, and finally martyrdom, under 
Dioclesian. Upon the place of her supposed 
death, a church was built, and may still be seen 
without the walla of Eome ; another was dedicated 
to her within the city. There is at Eome an 
annual procession in her honour, when a lamb, 
highly decorated, is led through the city. The 
connection of her name with the Latin for a lamb 
{a gnus) has probably led to the association of this 
animal with her memory. 

Born. — Henry VII., King of England, Pemhrole Castle, 
1456; Thomas Lord Erskine, 1750; Admiral William 
Smyth, 1788. 

iJied. — Miles Coverdale, translator of the Scriptures, 
1568; Joseph Scaliger, 1609; James Quin, actor, Bath, 
1766; J. H. Bernard do -St Pierre, 1814; Dr Robert 
Macnisb, miscellaneous writer, 1837; Henry Ilallam, his- 
tcrian, 1859. 


Partly from the crafty and astute character of 
the man, partly from the tedious bad health 
of his latter years, partly perhaps from our hear- 
ing of him so much in the relation of a ftither, we 
always think of Henry VII. as an elderly person. 
Yet he died in the iifty-third year of his age. 
There is something of the like illusion regarding 
several other royal personages in English history. 
For example, the deposed Henry VI. is usually 
thought of as a man well up in years at the time 

of his death; but he never got beyond his 
forty -sixth. His ancestor John of Gaunt, whom 
(following Shakspeare) we think of as 'time- 
honoured Lancaster,' died at fifty-nine. At the 
same period of life died James I., whom we always 
represent to ourselves as an old man. The man- 
ner in which historical personages are spoken of, 
in respect of age, by their contemporaries, has 
helped us in some measure into this illusion. 
Malone remarks as follows : ' Our ancestors, in 
their estimate of old age, appear to have estimated 
somewhat differently from us, and to have con- 
sidered men as old whom we should now esteem 
middle-aged. With them every man who had 
passed fifty seems to have been accoimted an old 
man. King Henry is represented as old by 
Daniel, in his poem of JRosamond. Henry was 
born in 1133, and died in 1189, at the age of 
fifty-six. Eobert Earl of Leicester is called an 
old man by Spenser in a letter to Gabriel Harvey 
in 1582, at which time Leicester was not fifty 
years old ; and the Erench Admiral Coligny is 
represented by his biographer Lord Huntington, 
as a very old man, though at the time of his death 
he was but fifty-three.' 


It is well known that Lord Erskine had experi- 
enced what he considered as a ghostly visitation. 
The circumstances, as related by himself, are given 
in Lady Morgan's Jiook of the Boudoir. 

' AVhen I was a very young man, I had been for 
some time absent from Scotland. On the morning 
of my arrival in Edinburgh, as I was descending 
the steps of a close, or coming out from a book- 
seller's shop, I met our old family butler. He 
looked greatly changed, pale, wan, and shadowy 
as a ghost. "Eh! old boy," I said, "what brings 
you here ?" He replied, " To meet your honoui-, 
and solicit your interference with my lord, to 
recover a sum due to me, which the steward at 
the last settlement did not pay." Struck by his 
looks and manner, I bade him follow me to the 
bookseller's, into whose shop I stepped back ; but 
when I turned rovmd to speak to him, he had 

' I remembered that his wife carried on some 
little trade in the Old Town. I remembered even 
the house and flat she occupied, which I had 
often visited in my boyhood. Having made it 
out, I found the old woman in widow's mourning. 
Her husband had been dead for some months, 
and had told her on his death-bed, that my 
father's steward had wronged him of some 
money, but that when Master Tom returned, he 
would see her righted. This I promised to do, 
and shortly after I fulfilled my promise. The 
impression was indelible .' * 

An amusing circumstance regarding Lord 
Erskine arose from his becoming possessed of a 
Sussex estate, which grow nothing but stunted 
birches, and was found totally irreclaimable. 
That it might not be wholly a loss to him, he 

* Lord Erskine was born in 1750, and entered the navy 
as a midshipman at the age of fourteen: at eighteen he 
transferred his services to the army, and at twenty-seven 
settled in the study of that profession in which he acquired 
such celebrity. He died in 1823. 



TILE booe: of days. 


commouecd ootting the l-irclios fouvertcd into 
brooms, wliicli were sold tliroiigliout the country. 
Ouo of tlie In-oom-sellors being taken before a 
magistrate for acting tluis -without a licence, 
Ersivine went to defend hlni, and contended tbero 
was a clause to meet this very case. Bemg asked 
which it was, he answered, ' The swcejviicf clause, 
vour worship, which is further fortified by a 
proviso, that "nothing herein contained shall 
prevent any proprietor of laud from vending the 
produce thereof in any manner that to him shall 
seem fit." ' 


The 21st of January will long be a memorable 
day in the history of France, as that on which an 
agonised nation, driven frantic by the threats of 
external enemies, threw down the bloody head of 
tiieir king as a gage of defiance to all gainsayers. 
Innocent and amiable, but fallen upon evil times, 
Louis XA"I. warmly engages our interest, as a 
victim who suflercd for the evil doings of those 
who went before him. The story of his impri- 
sonment and death, including the final parting 
with his family, is oue of the saddest ever put on 

Early on a gloomy winter morning, Paris was 
astir with the movements of large bodies _ of 
troops, forming a guard along the line by Avhich 
the imfortunate king was conducted from his 
prison to the scaffold.' He had made all religious 
preparations for death ; yet is believed to have 
still entertained some hope of a rescue, it being 
understood that five hundred devoted adherents 
had Towecl to interfere in his behalf even at the 
scaffold. Hence his last moments did not exhibit 
that serenity and meek submission which wovdd 
have best become an innocent sufferer. There 
may, however, be room for debate as to the exact 
degree in which an unsubmissive spirit manifested 
itself. Somewhat to the surprise of our genera- 
tion, it is thus described in Louis Blanc's ITistoire 
de la Eevolution Frangaise, tom, viii., published 
in 1856 :— 

' At ten minutes past ten, they reached the foot 
of the scaffold. It had been erected in front of 
the Palace of the Tuileries, in the square called 
after Louis the Fifteenth, and near the spot 
where stood the statue of the most corrupt of 
kings — a king who died tranquilly in his bed. 
The condemned was three minutes descending 
from the carriage. Upon quitting the Temple 
he had refused the rediugote which Clery had 
offered him, and now appeared in a brown coat, 
white waistcoat, grey breeches, and white stock- 
ings. His hair was not disordered, nor was any 
change perceptible in his countenance. The 
Abbe Firmont was dressed in black. A large 
open space had been kept round the scaffold, — 
with cannon ranged on every side, — while be- 
yond, as far as the eye could reach, stood an un- 
armed multitude gazing. . . . Descending from 
his carriage, Louis fixed his eyes upon the soldiers 
who surrounded him, and with a menacing voice 
cried, "Silence!" The drums ceased to beat, 
but at a signal from their officer, the drummers 
again went on. "What treason is this?" he 
shouted ; " I am lost ! I am lost ! " For it was 
evident that up to this moment he had been 

clinging to hope. The executioners now ap- 
proached to take off a part of his clothes ; he 
reindsed them fiercely, and himself removed the 
collar from his neck. But all the blood in his 
frame seemed to be turned into fire when they 
sought to tie his hands. " Tic my hands ! " he 
shrieked. A struggle was inevitable : — it came. 
It is indisputable, says Mercier, that Louis fought 
M'ith his executioners. The Abbe Edgeworth 
stood by, perplexed, horrified, speechless. At last, 
as his master seemed to look inquiringly at him, 
he said, " Sir, in this additional outrage I only 
see a last trait of the resemblance between your 
Majesty and the God who wUl give you your 
reward." At these words the indignation of the 
man gave way to the humility of the Christian, 
and Louis said to the executioners, " I will drain 
the cup to the dregs." They tied his hands, 
they cut off his hair, and then, leaning on the 
arm of his confessor, he began, with a slow tread 
and sunken demeanour, to mount the steps, then 
very steep, of the guillotine. Upon the last step, 
however, he seemed suddenly to rouse, and 
walked rapidly across to the other side of the 
scaflbld ; when, by a sign commanding silence, 
he exclaimed, " I die innocent of the crimes im- 
puted to me." His face was now very red, and, 
according to the narrative of his confessor, his 
voice was so loud that it could be heard as far as 
the Pont-Tournant. Some other expressions 
were distinctly heard, " I pardon the authors of 
my death, and I pray Heaven that the blood you 
are about to shed may never be visited upon 
France." He was about to continue, when his 
voice Avas drowned by the renewed rolling of the 
drums, at a signal which, it is affirmed, was 
given by the comedian Dugayon, in antici- 
pation of the orders of Santerre. "Silence! 
be silent!" cried Louis the Sixteenth, losing all 
self-control, and stamping violently with his 
foot. Kichard, one of the executioners, then 
seized a pistol, and took aim at the king. It 
was necessary to drag him along by force. AVitli 
difficulty fastened to the fatal plank, he continued 
to utter terrible cries, only interrupted by the 
fall of the knife.' 


It was a mournful spectacle that met the eyes 
of the crew of H.M.S. Dido, when, on the 21st 
of January, 1852, they found the remains of 
Captain Allen Gardiner and his hapless com- 
panions, on the dismal shore of Terra del Fucgo, 
at the southern extremity of America. First came 
to light some direction, rudely written on a rock ; 
then a boat lying on the beach at the mouth of a 
small river ; then the unburied bodies of Gar- 
diner and his friend Maidment ; then a packet of 
papers and books ; then the shattered remains of 
another boat, with part of her gear and stores, 
and various articles of clothing ; then two more 
dead bodies ; and lastly, the graves of the rest 
of the party. 

AUen Gardiner was a remarkable man ; one of 
those in whom the hardy seaman is combined 
with the deeply pious Christian : so strongly im- 
bued, indeed, was he with piety, that the last 
years of his life were those of a missionary rather 
than of a sea-captain. He made many attempts 




at rescuing barbarous tribes from lieatliendom in 
various parts of the world. Ou returning from 
one of his voyages,, in 1819, Gardiner formed a 
plan for sending out a missionary ship to Terra 
del Fuego, in tbe hope of Cliristianizing the rude 
Fuegians and Patagouians. During a year or 
more his efforts were unavailing. First the 
Moravian Brethren, then the Scottish National 
Church, declined to enter into his views. At 
last, a lady at Cheltenham provided him with 
£700 ; and this, with £300 from his owu private 
purse, formed the resources ou which he acted. 
Unable to aiford a brigantiue or schooner, as he 
had wished, he contented himself with four open 
boats, which he caused to be built at Liverpool. 
Two of these were launches of considerable size, 
named by him the Fionccr and the S^Jecdwell ; the 
other two were small dingles, iised as tenders or 
luggage boats. He sought and found six com- 
panions willing to share his perilous enterprise — 
a surgeon, a missionary, and four hardy, God- 
fearing Cornish boatmen. In September 1850, 
tlie ship Ocean Queen, bound from Liverpool to 
California, took out Gardiner, his companions, 
his boats, and six months' provisions. They 
were lauded on the inhosx^itable foreign shore ou 
the 5th of December. 

From the day when the Ocean Queen left them 
to pursue her voyage round Cape Horn, the eye 
of no civilized man ever saw these brave sailor- 
missionaries alive. All that is known of them 
has been gathered from the papers subsequently 
found. Their life must have been one of con- 
tinual hardship, cheered by nothing but the con- 
sciousness of a good motive. Seven men, in four 
open boats, went to convert barbarians, whose 
language they did not understand, and in a 
country singularly bare of food. Such was the 
enterprise, noble in intent, but deficient in prac- 
tical foresight. They soon found the boats to be 
much encumbered with stores, and the Pioneep 
somewhat leaky. In several short voyages from 
island to island, and from shore to shore, they 
encountered numberless mishaps. Sometimes 
the natives came down to the beach and drove 
them away ; sometimes they appeared more 
friendly, but robbed those whose mission they 
could not of course understand. During a storm 
both dingies were lost, with their contents ; 
during another, the anchors and the spare timber 
Avere lost. Next, they found that all their gun- 
powder had been forgetfully left behind in the 
Ocean Queen, and that they had no means of 
shooting birds or other animals for food. Thus 
wore away the month of January, 1851. So far 
from their missionary labours having been begun, 
it was with them a struggle for the maintenance 
of their own lives. As time advanced, their 
dangers were increased. On the 1st of February 
their poor I'loneer was shattered dui'ing a storm; 
and now they had only the Speedwell to voyage 
in — a boat whose name almost mocked them in 
tlicir misery. From this day their anxious eyes 
were turnccl, not to the rude Fuegians, but to the 
arrival of some ship from Fnglaud with succour. 
Arrangements had beeu made for sending out 
further supplies to them ; Gardiner and his com- 
panions did not know of the various mischances 
that retarded (till too late) the carrying out of 

these plans. Some of the men became ill with 
the scurvy ; some lived in a cavern, that the 
boats might become more comfortable as hospi- 
tals for the others. A few fish and fowl were 
caught ; but nothing that required shooting. 
So March and April passed : and then the Ant- 
arctic winter began, adding snow and ice to 
their other troubles. From the middle of May 
they were all put ou short allowance, owing to 
the rapid disappearance of their six months' 
stores. At the end of June one of the brave 
Cornishmen, Badcock, died, worn out with scurvy. 
There is an entry in Gardiner's diary, about the 
end of June, enumerating the articles still left ; 
and among them were ' six mice,' concerning 
which he said : ' The mention of this last item in 
our list of provisions may startle some of our 
friends, should it ever reach their ears ; but cir- 
cumstanced as we are, we partake of them with 
a relish, and have already eaten several of them ; 
they are very tender, and taste like rabbit.' A 
solitary penguin, a dead fox, a half-devoured fish 
thrown up on shore, — all were welcomed by the 
half-starved men. 

When August arrived, the strength of all was 
nearly exhausted. A few garden seeds were 
made into a kind of gruel ; and mussel-broth was 
served to the invalids. Captain Gardiner himself 
lived on mussels for a fortnight, and was then com- 
pelled to give up this diet. He was about to lie 
down resignedly to die, when the discovery of akiud 
of rock-weed gave him a little further respite. On 
the 23rcl, Erwin the boatman died, exhausted by 
hunger and disease ; and on the 26th another boat- 
man, Bryant, followed him. Pearce, the remain- 
ing boatman, went nearly mad at the loss of his 
companions. Mr Maidment, the missionary, had 
just strength sufficient to dig a grave and deposit 
the last remains of the two poor fellows in it. He 
then made a pair of crutches with two sticks, on 
which Captain Gardiner might lean while walking 
a little ; for these two, with their cavern and 
their shattered Pioneer, were at some little dis- 
tance from the Speedicell ; and Gardiner wished 
that he and the remnant of his little band, if God 
willed them to die on that dismal spot, shoiJd at 
least die in companionship. It was not to be, 
however; his strength failed him too soon, and 
he returned to the cavern. The heroic, unre- 
pining Maidment died on the 2nd of September. 
Gardiner was helpless : there was no Maidment 
to find a bit of food for him, and he could not 
rise to search for it himself. Hunger on the 3rd 
and 4th, hunger on the 5th and Gth ; no food ; and 
only just strength enough to write a few lines on 
paper which he hoped might one day reach friendly 
hands. It is supposed that he sank into the arms 
of death on the evening of the Gth, but none was 
near to make the record ; nor can we know 
whether the remaining two of the unfortunate band 
(Mr Williams the surgeon, and Pearce the boat- 
man, who were in or near the Speedwell) died a 
little before or a little after their chief. The dif- 
ference of date could not be much ; for health, 
strength, and food were alike wanting to all. 

It matters little here to notice by what cross- 
purposes supplies of food and other necessaries 
failed to reach Patagonia till too late. When 
Captain Moorskead, in the I)ido, touched at that 





spot, (wliichlie Avas permitted by the Government 
to do. on the earnest solicitation of (lardiner's 
friends.) various writings guided him from place to 
place, till he cfune to the poor shattered Pioneer. 
'Captain tJardiner's body was lying beside the 
boat, which apparently he had left, and being too 
weak to climb into it again, had died by the side 
of it. "We were directed to the cavern by a hand 
painted on the rock, with Psalm Ixii. 5—8, imder 
it.' Mr ]\laidmeut's body was found iu the 

Here is the last scene of the tragedy. ' Their 
remains,' says Captain Moorshead, speaking of 
the seven deceased men, 'were collected together 
and buried close to the spot, and the funeral ser- 
vice read by Lieutenant Underwood. A short 
inscription was ]ilaced on the rock near his own 
text ; the colom-s of the boats and ships were 
struck half mast ; and three volleys of musketry 
were the only tribute of respect I could pay to 
this lofty-minded man and his devoted com- 


St Vincent, martyr at Valencia, 304. St Anastasius, 
martyr iu Assyria, 628. 


Vincent was a Spanish saint, martyred under 
the proconsul Dacian iu the fourth century. The 
recital of his pious serenity and cheerfulness 
under unheard-of tortures, is very striking. 
After having been cruelly broiled over a fire, he 
was put into a dungeon, bound in stocks, and 
left without provisions. ' But God,' says Butler, 
' sent his angels to comfort him, with whom he 
sung the praises of his protector. The gaoler, 
observing through the chinks the prison filled 
with light, and the saint walking and praising 
God, was converted tipon the spot to the 
Christian faith, and afterwards baptized.' The 
bones of the martyr were afterwards kept with 
the utmost veneration, and Butler speaks of 
some parts of the body as being still preserved 
in religious houses in France. 

It is not surprising that a saint with such a 
history as that of St Vincent should have made 
a deep impression on the popular mind, and given 
rise to superstitious ideas. The ancient remark 
on his day was couched in somewhat obscure 
terms: 'Vincenti festo, si sol radiet, memor esto ;' 
merely calling us to remember if the sun shone 
on that day. The matter was a mystery to 
modern investigators of folk lore, till a gentle- 
man residing in Guernsey, looking through some 
famdy documents of the sixteenth century, found 
a scrap of verse expressed in old provincial 
French : 

' Prens garde au jour St Vincent, 
Car, sy ce jour tu vols et sent 
Que le soleil soiet cler et biau, 
Koiis erons du vin plus que I'eau.' * 


* Notes and Queries, ix. 307. 

Not, as might at first sight be supposed, an inti- 
mation to hon-vivants, that in that case there 
Mould be a greater proportion of wine than of 
M'ater throughout the year, but a hint to the 
vine-cult uring peasantry that the year would 
be a dry one. and favourable to the vintage. It 
will be found that St Vincent's is not the only 
day from whose weather that of the future 
season is prognosticated. 

Bom. — Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam, 1561 ; Sir 
Robert Cotton, 1570; P. Gassendi, 1592; Gotthold 
Lessin^t, 1729 ; George Lord Byron, London, 1788. 

Died. — -George Steevens, editor of Shakspeare, Ilamp- 
slend, 1800 ; John F. Blnmenbacb, physiologist, 1840 ; 
Richard Westall, painter, 1850. 


Ours is a white-washing age, and, perhaps, 
to speak in all seriousness, justice and generosity 
alike do call for the reconsideration of some of 
the verdicts of the past. Bacon — whose intel- 
lectual greatness as the expositor of the inductive 
philosophy has always been admitted, but whose 
bribe-receiving as a judge has laid him open to 
the condemnation of Pope, as 

'The wisest, greatest, meanest of mankind' — 

has found a defender in these latter days in Mr 
Hepworth Dixon. The great fact which stares 
us iu the face is, that Bacon, when about to be 



prosecuted for bribe-receiving by the House of 
Lords, gave in a paper, in which he used the 
words : ' I confess that I am guilty of corruption, 
and do renounce all defence, and put myself upon 
the grace and mercy of your lordships.' One 
would think this fact, followed as it duly was by 
his degradation from the post of Lord Chancellor, 




enougli to appal the most determined white- 
washer. Nevertheless, Mr Dixon has come 
valiantly to the rescue, and really made out a 
wonderfully good case for his client. 

His explanations chiefly come to this : the wife 
of the king's favourite, the Duke of Buckingham, 
wished to get Bacon's place for a friend of her 
own ; and Coke, a rival and enemy of Bacon, 
made common cause with her grace. In the 
loose and bad practice of that age, when it was 
customary to give presents even to royalty every 
new-year's morning, and influence and patronage 
were sought in all directions by these means, it 
was not difficult to get up a charge against a 
chancellor so careless and indifferent to conceal- 
ment as Bacon. He, taken at a disadvantage 
under sickness, at first met the twenty-two cases of 
alleged bribery with an indignant declaration of his 
innocence of all beyond failing in some instances 
to inform himself whether the cause was fully at 
an end before receiving the alleged gift. And it 
really did, after all, appear that only in three 
instances was the case still before the court at 
the time when the gifts were made ; and in these 
there were circumstances fully shewing that no 
thought of bribery was entertained, nor any of 
its ordinary results experienced. Bacon, how- 
ever, was soon made to see that his ruin was 
detei'mined on, and xinavoidable ; while by yield- 
ing to the assault he might still have hopes from 
the king's grace. Thus was he brought to make 
the confession which admitted of a certain degree 
of guilt ; in consequence of which he was expelled 
the House of Peers, prohibited the court, fined 
forty thousand pounds, and cast into the Tower. 
The guilt which he admitted, however, was not 
that of taking bribes to pervert justice, but that 
of allowing fees to be paid into his court at 
irregular times. 

Mr Dixon says : ' A series of public acts in 
whicli the King and Council concurred, attested 
the belief in his substantial innocence. By 
separate and solemn acts he was freed from the 
Tower ; his great fine was remitted ; he was 
allowed to reside in London; he was summoned 
to take his seat in the House of Lords. Society 
reversed his sentence even more rapidly than the 
Crown. When the fight was over, and Lord 
St Albans was politically a fallen man, no con- 
temporary who had any knowledge of aflairs 
ever dreamt of treating him as a convicted rogue. 
The wise and noble loved him, and courted him 
more in his adversity than they had done in his 
days of grandeur. No one assumed that he had 
lost his virtue because he had lost his place. The 
good George Herbert held him in his heart of 
hearts ; an affection which Bacon well repaid. 
Jolm Selden professed for him immeasurable 
veneration. Ben Jonson expressed, in speaking 
of him after he was dead, the opinion of all good 
scholars, and all honest men : " My conceit of 
his person," says Ben, " Avas never increased 
towards him by his place or honours ; but 1 Jiave 
and do reverence him for the greatness that Avas 
proper only to himself, in that he seemed to me 
ever by his work one of the greatest of men, and 
most wortliy of admiration tliat hath been in 
many ages. In his adversity. I ever prayed that 
God would give him strength, for greatness he 

could not want. Neither could I condole in a 
word or syllable for him, as knowing no accident 
could do harm to virtue, but rather help to make 
it manifest." ' 

In the dedication of his Essays to the Duke of 
Buckingham, Bacon uses this expression : ' I do 
conceive that the Latin volume of them, being 
in the universal language, may last as long as 
books last.' 

The present writer once, at a book-sale, lighted 
upon a copy of the Essays, which bore the name 
of Adam Smith as its original owner. It con- 
tained a note, in what he presumes to have been 
the writing of Mr Smith on this passage, as 
foUows : ' In the preface, what may by some be 
thought vanity, is only that laudable and innate 
confidence which any good man and good writer 


The life and labours of this distinguished 
man present a remai'kable instance of the 
application of the study of antiquities to mat- 
ters of political importance and public benefit. 
Descended from an ancient family, he was 
born at Denton, in Huntingdonshire, and 
educated at Trinity College, Cambridge. Having 
settled in London, he there formed a society of 
learned men attached to antiquarian pursuits, and 
soon became a diligent collector of records, 
charters, and other instruments relating to the 
history of his coimtry ; a vast number of which 
had been dispersed among private hands at the 
dissolution of the monasteries. In the year 1600, 
we find Cotton assisting Camden in his Bntannia; 
and in the same year he wrote an Abstract of the 
question of Precedency between England and 
Spain, in consequence of Queen Elizabeth having 
desired tlie thoughts of the Society already men- 
tioned upon that point. Cotton was knighted by 
James I., during whose reign he was much con- 
sulted by the privy councillors and ministers of 
state upon difficult points relating to the consti- 
tution. He was also employed by King James 
to vindicate Mary, Queen of Scots from the 
supposed misrepresentations of Buchanan and 
Thuanus ; and he next, by order of the king, 
examined, with great learning, the question 
whether the Papists ought, by the laws of^ the 
land, to be put to death or to be imprisoned. From 
his intimacy with Carr, Earl of Somerset, he was 
suspected by the Court of having some knowledge 
of the circumstances of Sir Thomas Overbury's 
death ; and he was consequently detained in the 
custody of an alderman of London for five months, 
and interdicted the use of his library. He sat in 
the first parliament of King Charles I., for whose 
honour and safety he was always zealous. In the 
following year, a manuscript tract, entitled How 
a Prince may make Jiimself an ahsohite Tyrant, 
being found in Cotton's library, though unknown 
to him, he was once more parted from his books 
by way of piinishment. These harassing persecu- 
tions led to his death, at Cotton House, in West- 
minster, May 6, 1631. His library, much increased 
by his sou and grandson, was sold to the Crown, 





with. Cotton House (at the west end of Westmin- 
ster Hall) ; but in 1712. the mansion fallinis; into 
decay, the libraiy was removed to Essex House, 
Strand; thence, in 1730, to Ashburnham House, 
SYostminster, where, by a fire, npwards of 200 
of the MSS. were bst, burnt, or defaced; the 
remainder of the library was removed into the 
new dormitory of the Westminster School, and, 
with Major Edwards's bequest of 2000 printed 
volumes, was transferred to the British Museum. 
The Cottonian collection originally contained 938 
volumes of Charters, Royal Letters, Foi'eign 
State Correspondence, and Ancient Registers. 
It was kept in cases, upon which were the heads 
of the Twelve Csesars ; above the cases were 

Eortraits of the three Cottons, Spelman, Camden, 
ambard. Speed, &c., which are now in the 
British Museum collection of portraits. Besides 
MSS. the Cottonian collection contained Saxon 
and English coins, and Roman and English anti- 
quities, all now in the British Museum. Camden, 
Speed, Raleigh, Selden, and Bacon, all drew 
materials from the Cottonian library ; and in our 
time the histories of England, by Sharon Turner 
and Lingard, and numerous other works, have 
proved its treasures unexhausted. 


This day, in the year 1720, inaiigurated the 
most monstrous commercial folly of modern 
times— the famous South Sea Bubble. 

In the year 1711, Harley, Earl of Oxford, with 
the view of restoring public credit, and discharg- 
ing ten millions of the floating debt, agreed with 
a company of merchants that they should take 
the debt upon themselves for a certain time, at 
the interest of six per cent., to provide for which, 
amounting to £600,000 per annum, the duties 
upon certain articles were rendered permanent. 
At the same time was granted the monopoly of 
trade to the South Seas, and the merchants were 
incorporated as the South Sea Company ; and so 
proud was the minister of his scheme, that it was 
called, by his flatterers, ' the Earl of Oxford's 
masterpiece.' In 1717, the Company's stock of 
ten millions was authorised by Parliament to be 
increased to twelve millions, upon their advancing 
two millions to Government towards reducing the 
national debt. The name of the Company was 
thus kept continually before the public; and 
though their trade with the South American 
States was not profitable, they continued to 
flourish as a monetary corporation. Their stock 
was in high request ; and the directors, deter- 
mined to fly at high game, proposed to the 
Government a scheme for no less an object than 
the paying ofi" the national debt ; this proposition 
being made just on the explosion in Paris of its 
counterpart, the Mississippi scheme of the cele- 
brated John Law. The first propounder of the 
South Sea project was Sir John Blount, who had 
been bred a scrivener, and was a bold and 
plausible speculator. The Company agreed to 
take upon themselves the debt, amounting to 
£30,981,712, at five per cent, per annum, secured 
until 1727, when the whole was to become re- 
deemable at the pleasure of the Legislature, and 
the interest to be reduced to four per cent. Upon 
the 22nd of January 1720, the House of Commons, 

in a committee, received the proposal with great 
favour ; the Bank of England was, however, 
anxious to share in the scheme, but, after some 
delay, the proposal of the Company was accepted, 
and leave given to bring in the necessary Bill. 

At this crisis an infatuation regarding the 
South Sea speculation began to take possession of 
the public mind. The Company's stock rose from 
130 to 300, and continued to rise while the Bill 
was in progress. Mr Walpole was almost the 
only statesman in the House who denounced the 
absurdity of the measure, and warned the 
country of the evils that must ensue ; but his 
admonition was entirely disregarded. 

Meanwhile, the South Sea directors and their 
friends, and especially the chairman of the Com- 
pany, Blount, employed every stratagem to raise 
the price of the stock. It was rumoured that 
Spain would, by treaty with England, grant a 
free trade to all her colonies, and that silver 
would thus be brought from Potosi, until it would 
be almost as plentiful as iron ; also, that for our 
cotton and woollen goods the gold mines of Mexico 
were to be exhausted. The South Sea Company 
were to become the richest the world ever saw, 
and each hundred pound of their stock would 
pi'oduce hundreds per annum to the holder. By 
this means the stock was raised to near 400 ; it 
then fluctuated, and settled at 330, when the Bill 
was passed, though not without opposition. 

Exchange Alley was the seat of the gambling 
fever ; it was blocked up every day by crowds, as 
were Cornhill and Lombard-street with carriages. 
In the words of the ballads of the day : 

' There is a gulf where thousands fell, 

There all the bold adventurers came ; 
A narrow sound, though deep as hell, 

'Change Alley is the drea.dful name.' — Swift. 

' Then stars and garters did appear 

Among the meaner rabble ; 
To buy and sell, to see and hear 

The Jews and Gentiles squabble. 
The greatest ladies thither came, 

And phed in chariots daily, 
Or pawned their jewels for a sum 

To venture in the Alley. ' 

On the day the Bill was passed, the shares were 
at 310 ; next day they fell to 290. Then it was 
rumoured that Spain, in exchange for Gibraltar 
and Port Mahon, would give up places on the 
coast of Peru ; also that she would secure and 
enlarge the South Sea trade, so that the company 
might build and charter any number of ships, 
and pay no per-centage to any foreign power. 
Within five days after the Bill had become law, 
the directors opened their books for a subscription 
of a million, at the rate of £300 for every £100 
capital ; and this first subscription soon exceeded 
two millions of original stock. In a few days, 
the stock advanced to 340, and the subscriptions 
were sold for double the price of the first pay- 
ment. Then the directors announced a mid- 
summer dividend of ten per cent, upon all sub- 
scriptions. A second subscription of a million at 
400 per cent, was then opened, and in a few hours 
a million and a half was subscribed for. 

Meanwhile, innumerable bubble companies 
started up under the very highest patronage. 




The Prince of Wales, becoming governor of one 
company, is said to liaye cleared £40,000 by his 
speculations. Tlie Dnke of Bridgewater and the 
Duke of Chandos were among the schemers. 
By these deceptive projects, which numbered 
nearly a hundred, one million and a half 
sterling was won and lost by crafty knaves and 
covetous fools. The absurdity of the schemes 
was palpable : the only policy of the projectors 
was to raise the shares in the market, and then 
to sell out, leaving the bubble to burst, perhaps, 
next morning. One of the schemes was ' A com- 
pany for carrying on an undertaking of great 
advantage, but nobody to know what it is : ' each 
subscriber, for £2 deposit, to be entitled to 
£100 per annum per share ; of this precious scheme 
1000 shares were taken in six hours, and the 
deposits paid. 

In all these bubbles, persons of both sexes 
alike engaged ; the men meeting their brokers at 
taverns and coffee-houses, and the ladies at the 
shops of milliners and haberdashers ; and such 
was the crowd and confusion in Exchange Alley, 
that shares in the same bubble were sold, at the 
same instant, ten per cent, higher at one end of 
the Alley than at the other. All this time 
Walpole continued his gloomy warnings, and 
his fears were impressed upon the Government ; 
when the King, by proclamation, declared all un- 
lawful projects to be public nuisances, and to be 
prosecuted accordingly, and any broker trafficking 
in them to be liable to a penalty of £5000. Next, 
the Lords Justices dismissed all petitions for 
patents and charters, and dissolved all the bubble 
companies. Notwithstanding this condemnation, 
other bubbles sprang up daily, and the infatua- 
tion still continued. Attempts were made to 
ridicule the public out of their folly by carica- 
ture and satire. Playing-cards bore caricatures 
of bubble companies, with warning verses, of 
which a specimen is annexed, copied from a print 
called The Bubbler s Medley. 

In the face of such exposures, the fluctua- 
tions of the South Sea stock grew still more 
alarming. On the 28th of May it was quoted at 
550, and in four days it rose to 890. Then came 
a tremendous rush of holders to sell out ; and 
on June 3, so few buyers appeared in the AUey, 
that stock fell at once from 890 to 640. By 
various arts of the directors to keep up the price 
of stock, it finally rose to 1000 per cent. It 
then became known that Sir John Blount, the 
chairman, and others, had sold out; and the stock 
fell throughout the month of August, and on 
September 2 it was quoted at 700 only. 

The alarm now greatly increased. The South 
Sea Company met in Merchant Taylors' Hall, 
and endeavoured to appease the unfortunate 
holders of stock, but in vain : in a few days the 
price fell to 400. Among the victims was Gay, 
the poet, who, having had some South Sea stock 
presented to him, supposed himself to be master 
of £20,000. At that crisis his friends importuned 
him to sell, but he rejected the counsel : the 
profit and principal were lost, and Gay sunk 
under the calamity, and his life became in 

The ministers grew more alarmed, the directors 
were insulted in the streets, and riots were ap- 

prehended. Despatches were sent to the king at 
Hanover, praying his immediate return. Wal- 
pole was implored to exercise his infiuence with 
the Bank of England, to induce them to relieve 
the Company by circulating a number of South 
Sea bonds. To this the Bank reluctantly con- 

Jea vMA Mj-f\aJ- hstCt V/nlhmk'f^ F'ooU are Rumjyn.a 
To JCummvr A"ot/vc<J amd CraM^y their G.(mnjjnir 

Swb Sonne t/vir nmalxtij ^KopeJ IVuiCome.^ Jadnefd 

sented, but the remedy failed : the South Sea 
stock fell rapidly : a run commenced upon the 
most eminent goldsmiths and bankers, some of 
whom, having lent large sums upon South Sea 
stock, were obliged to abscond. This occasioned 
a great run upon the Bank, but the intervention 
of a holiday gave them time, and they weathered 
the storm. The South Sea Company were, how- 
ever, wrecked, and their stock feU ultimately to 
150 ; when the Bank, finding its efforts tin- 
availing to stem the tide of ruin, contrived to 
evade the loosely-made agreement into which 
it had partially entered. 

Public meetings were now held all over 
England, praying the vengeance of the Legisla- 
ture upon the South Sea directors, though the 
nation was as culpable as the Company. The 
king returned, and parliament met, when Lord 
Molesworth went so far as to recommend that the 
people, having no law to punish the directors, 
should treat them like Koman parricides— tie 
them in sacks, and throw them into the Thames. 
Mr Walpole was more temperate, and proposed 
inquiry, and a scheme for the restoration of 
public credit, by engrafting nine millions of 
South Sea stock into the Bank of England, and 
the same into the East India Company ; and this 
plan became law. At the same time a BiU was 
brought in to restrain the South Sea directors, 
governor, and other officers, from leaving the 





kingdom for a twelvemonth ; and for discoverinir 
Iheir estates and efleets. and preventing them 
from transporting or alienating the same. A 
strange eonfusion ensued : jMr Seerctary Craggs 
was iiceused by I\Ir IShippen, ' downright Ship- 
pen,' of eoUusion in tlie South Sea business, 
when he promised to explain his conduct, and a 
committee of inquiry was appointed. The Lords 
had been as active as the Commons. The Bishop 
of Eochester likened the scheme to a pestilence; 
and Lord Stanhope said that every farthing pos- 
sessed by the criminals, directors or not, ought 
to be confiscated, to make good the public losses. 
The cry out-of-doors for justice was equally loud: 
Mr Aislabie, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, 
and Mr Craggs, were openly accused : five 
directors, including Mr Edward Gibbon, the 
grandfather of the celebrated historian, were 
ordered to the custody of the Black Eod, and the 
Chancellor absented himself from parliament 
until the charge against him had been inquired 
into. Meanwhile, Knight, the treasurer of the 
Company, taking with him the books and docu- 
ments, and secrets of the directors, escaped 
disguised in a boat on the Thames, and was con- 
veyed thence to Calais, in a vessel hired for the 
purpose. Two thousand pounds' reward was, by 
royal proclamation, offered for his apprehension. 
The doors of the House of Commons were 
locked, and the keys placed iipon the table, and 
the inquiry proceeded. The South Sea directors 
and officers were secured ; their papers were 
seized, and such as were Members of Parliament 
■were expelled the House, and taken into custody. 
Sir John Blount was examined, but little could be 
drawn from him; and Lord Stanhope, in replying 
to a reflection made upon him by the Duke of 
"Wharton, spoke with such vehemence that he 
fell into a fit, and on the next evening expired. 
Meanwhile, the treasurer of the Company was 
apprehended near Liege, and lodged in the 
citadel of Antwerp ; but the States of Brabant 
refused to deliver him up to the British autho- 
rities, and ultimately he escaped from the citadel. 
There is an admirable caricatvire of this ma- 
noeuvre, entitled ' The Brabant Skreen,' in which 
the Duchess of Kendal, from behind the screen, 
is supplying Knight with money, to enable him 
to effect his escape. 

On the 10th of February, the Committee of 
Secrecy reported to Parliament the results of 
their inquiry, shewing how false and fictitious 
entries had been made in the books, erasures and 
alterations made, and leaves torn out ; and some 
of the most important books had been destroyed 
altogether. The properties of many thousands 
of persons, amounting to many millions of money, 
had been thus made away with. Fictitious stock 
had been distributed among members of the 
Government, by way of bribe, to facilitate the 
passing of the Bill : to the Earl of Sunderland 
was assigned £50,000 ; to the Duchess of Kendal, 
£10,000; to Mr Secretary Craggs, £30,000. 
Mr Charles Stanhope, one of the Secretaries to 
the Treasury, had received £250,000, as the 
difference in the price of some stock, and the 
account of the Chancellor of the Exchequer 
shewed £794,451. He had also advised the 
Company to make their second subscription a 

million and a half, instead of a million, without 
any warrant. In the third subscription his name 
was down for £70,000 ; Mr Craggs, senior, for 
£659,000; the Earl of Sunderland for £160.000; 
and C. Stanhope for £47,000. Upon this report, the 
practices were declared to be corrupt, infamous, 
and dangerous, and a Bill was brought in for the 
relief of the unhappy sufferers. In the examina- 
tion of the accused persons, Charles Stanhope 
was acquitted by a majority of three only, which 
caused the greatest discontent through the 
country. Mr Chancellor Aislabie was, however, 
the greatest criminal, and without a dissentient 
voice he was expelled the House, all his estate 
seized, and he was committed a close prisoner 
to the Tower of London. ISText day Sir George 
Caswall, of a firm of jobbers who had been im- 
plicated in the business, was expelled the House, 
committed to the Tower, and ordered to refund 
£250,000. The Earl of Sunderland was acquitted, 
lest a verdict of guilty against him should bring a 
Tory ministry into power ; but the country was 
convinced of his criminality. Mr Craggs the elder 
died the day before his examination was to have 
come on. He left a fortune of a million and a 
half, which was confiscated for the benefit of the 
sufferers by the delusion which he had mainly 
assisted in raising. Every director was mulcted, 
and two millions and fourteen thousand pounds 
were confiscated, each being allowed a small resi- 
due to begin the world anew. As the guilt of the 
directors could not be punished by anj^ known 
laws of the land, a Bill of Pains and Penalties — a 
retro-active statute — was passed. The characters 
of the directors were marked wdth ignominy, 
and exorbitant securities were imposed for their 
appearance. To restore public credit was the 
object of the next measure. At the end of 1720, the 
South Sea capital stock amounted to £37,800,000, 
of which the allotted stock only amounted to 
£24.500,000. The remainder, £13,300,000, was the 
profit of the Company by the national delusion. 
Upwards of eight millions were divided among 
the proprietors and subscribers, making a divi- 
dend of about £33 6s. 8d. per cent. Upon eleven 
millions, lent by the Company when prices 
were unnaturally raised, the borrowers were 
to pay 10 per cent., and then be free ; but it 
was long before public credit was thoroughly 

There have been many bubble companies since 
the South Sea project, but none of such enormity 
as that national delusion. In 1825, over-specu- 
lation led to a general panic ; in 1836, abortive 
schemes had nearly led to results as disastrous ; 
and in 1845, the grand invention of the railway 
led to a mania which ruined thousands of specu- 
lators. But none of these bubbles was counte- 
nanced by those to whom the government of the 
country was entrusted, which was the blackest 
enormity in the South Sea Bubble. 

The powerful genius of Hogarth did not spare 
the South Sea scheme, as in the emblematic print 
here engraved, in which a group of persons 
riding on wooden horses, the devil cutting fortune 
into collops, and a man broken on the wheel, 
are the main incidents, — the scene being at the 
base of a monument of the folly of the age. 
Beneath are some rhymes, commencing with 




' See here the causes why in London 
So many men are made and undone.' 

The scene in Exchange Alley has also been 

excellently painted in our time by Mr E. M. 
Ward, E..A., with the motley throng of beaux 
and ladies turned gamblers, and the accessory 


pawnbroker's shop, in a truly Hogarthian spirit. 
The picture is in the Vernon collection, South 


January 22, 1753, died at Broomlands, near 
Kelso, Jean Countess of Eoxbui'gh, aged 96. No 
way remarkable in herself, this lady was notable 
in some external circumstances. She had under- 
gone one of the longest widowhoods of which any 
record exists — no less than seventy-one years ; 
for her first and only husband, Eobert third Earl 
of lioxburgh, had been lost in the Gloucester 
frigate, in coming down to Scotland with the 
Duke of York, on the 7th of May 1682. She must 
also have been one of the last surviving persons 
born under the Commonwealth. Her father, the 
first Marquis of Tweeddale, fought at Long 
Marston Moor in 1644. 

Singular as a widowhood of seventy-one years 
must be esteemed, it is not unexampled, if we are 
to believe a sepulchral inscription in Camberwell 
Church, relating to Agnes Skuner, who died in 
1499, at the age of 119, having survived her hus- 
band Richard Skuner ninetj/-two years ! 

These instances of long-enduring widowhoods 
lead us by association of ideas to a noble lady 
who, besides surviving her husbandwithout second 
nuptials during a very long time, was further 
noted for reaching a much more extraordinary 
age. Allusion is here made to the celebrated 
Countess of Desmond, who is usually said to have 
died early in tlio seventeenth century, after seeing 
a hundred and forty years. There has latterly 
been a disposition to look with doubt on the 
alleged existence of this A^enerable person ; and 
the doubt has been strengthened by the discovery 
that an alleged portrait of her, published by Pen- 
nant, proves to be in reality one of Rembrandt's 
mother. There is, however, very fair evidence 

that such a person did live, and to a very great 
age. Bacon, in his Natural History, alludes to 
her as a person recently in life. ' They teU a 
tale,' says he, ' of the old Countess of Desmond 
who lived till she was seven score years old, that 
she did dentire [produce teeth] twice or thrice ; 
casting her old teeth, and others coming in their 
place.' Sir Walter Raleigh, moreover, in his 
History of the World, says : ' I myself Icnetv the 
old Countess of Desmond, of Inchiquin, in Mun- 
ster, who lived in the year 1589, and many years 
since, who was married in Edward the Fourth's 
time, and held her jointure from all the Earls of 
Desmond since then ; and that this is true all the 
noblemen and gentlemen in Munster can wit- 
ness.'* Raleigh was in Ireland in 1589, on his 
homeward voyage from Portugal, and might 
then form the personal acquaintance of this 
aged lady. 

We have another early reference to the 
Countess from Sir William Temple, who, speaking 
of cases of longevity, -writes as follows : ' The 
late Robert Earl of Leicester, who was a person 
of great learning and observation, as well as of 
truth, told me several stories very extraordinary 
upon this subject ; one of a Countess of Desmond, 
married out of England in Edward IV. 's time, 
and who lived far in King James's reign, and was 
counted to have died some years above a hundred 
and forty ; at which age she came from Bristol to 
London, to beg some relief at Court, having long 
been very poor by reason of the ruin of that Irish 
family into wliich she was married.' i" 

Several portraits alleged to represent the old 
Countess of Desmond are in existence : one at 
Knowle in Kent ; another at Bedgebury, near 
Cranbrook, the seat of A. J. Beresford-Hope, Esq. ; 

* Hist, of World, book i. chap. .5. sec. 5. 
t Sir W. Temple on Health and Long Life. Works 
(ed. 1814), iii. 283. 





and a third in tlie house of Mr Herbert at Mucross 
Abbey. XiUarney. On the back of the last is the^ 
following inscription : ' Catharine Countesse of 
Desmonde. as she appeared at y= court of our 
Sovraigne Lord King James, in this preasent 
A.D. 1(51-1. and in y' 140th ycare of her age. 
Thither she came from Bristol to seek relief, y'' 
house of Pesmonde having been ruined by At- 
tainder. She was married in the Reigne of King 
Edward IV., and in y^ course of her long Pil- 
grimage renewed her teeth twice. Her principal 
residence is at Inchiquin in Munster, whither she 
undoubtedlye proposeth (her purpose accom- 
plished) incontinentlie to return. Laus Deo.' 
Another portrait considered to be that of the old 


Countess of Desmond has long been in the posses- 
sion of the Knight of Kerry. It was engraved by 
Grogan, and published in 1806, and a transcript 
of it appears on this page. The existence of so 
many pictures of old date, all alleged to represent 
Lady Desmond, though some doubt may rest on 
them all, forms at least a corroborative evidence 
of her existence. It may here be remarked that 
the inscription on the back of the Mucross por- 
trait is most probably a production, not of her 
own day, as it pretends to be, but of some later 
time. On a review of probabilities, with which 
we need not tire the reader, it seems necessary 
to conclude that the old Countess died in 1604, 
and that she never performed the journey in 

iuestion to London. Most probably, the Earl of 
leicester mistook her in that particular for the 
widow of the forfeited Garrett Earl of Desmond, 
of whom we shall presently have to speak. 

The question as to the existence of the so- 
called Old Countess of Desmond was fully dis- 
cussed a few years ago by various writers in the 
Notes and Queries, and finally subjected to a 
thorough sifting in an article in the Quarterly 

Review*' evidently the production of one well ac- 
quainted with Irish family history. The result 
was a satisfactory identification of the lady with 
Katherine Fitzgerald, of the Fitzgeralds of 
Dromana. in the county of Waterford, the second 
wife of Thomas twelfth Earl of Desmond, who 
died at an advanced age in the year 1534. The 
family which her husband represented was one of 
immense possessions and infiuence — able to bring 
an array of five or six thousand men into the field; 
but it went to ruin in consequence of the rebel- 
lion of Garrett the sixteenth Earl in 1579. 
Although Countess Katherine was not the means 
of carrying on the line of the family, she con- 
tinued in her widowhood to draw her jointure 
from its wealth ; did so even after its forfeiture. 
Thus a state paper dated 1589 enumerates, among 
the forfeitures of the attainted Garrett, ' the 
castle and manor of Inchiquin, now in the hands 
of Katherine Eitz-John, late wife to Thomas, 
sometyme Earl of Desmond, for terme of lyef as 
for her dower.' It appears that Ealeigh had 
good reason to know the aged lady, as he received 
a grant out of the forfeited Desmond property, 
with the obligation to plant it with English 
families ; and we find him excusing himself for 
the non-fulfilment of this engagement by saying, 
' There remaynes unto me but an old castle and 
demayne, which are yet in occupation of the old 
Countess of Desmond for her jointure.' 

After all, Ealeigh did lease at least two por- 
tions of the lands, one to John Cleaver, another to 
Eobert Beve, both in 1589, for rents which were 
to be of a certain amount ' after the decease of 
the Lady Cattelyn old Countess Dowager of Des- 
mond, widow,' as the documents shew.f 

Another important contemporaiy reference to 
the old Countess is that made by the traveller 
Fynes Morrison, who was in Ireland from 1599 
to 1603, and was, indeed, shipwrecked on the 
very coast where the aged lady lived. He says 
in his Iti7wr art/ : 'In our time the Countess of 
Desmond lived to the age of about one hundred 
and forty years, being able to go on foot four or 
five miles to the market-town, and using weekly 
so to do in her last years ; and not many years 
before she died, she had all her teeth renewed.' 
After hearing on such good authority of her 
ladyship's walking powers, we may the less 
boggle at the tradition regarding the manner of 
her death, which has been preserved by the Earl 
of Leicester. According to him, the old lady 
might have drawn on the thread of life somewhat 
longer than she did, but for an accident. ' She 
must needs,' says he, ' climb a nut-tree to gather 
nuts ; so, falling down, she hurt her thigh, which 
brought a fever, and that brought death.' 

It "is plain that, if the Countess was one hun- 
dred and forty in 1604, she must have been born 
in the reign of Edward IV. in 1464, and might 
be mari'ied in his reign, which did not terminate 
till 1483. It might also be that the tradition 
about the Countess was true, that she had danced 
at the English Court with the Duke of Gloucester 
(Richard III.), of whom it is said she used to 
affirm that ' he was the handsomest man in the 

* Quarterly Review, March 1853. 
t The Old Countess of Desmond ; an Inquiry, &c., by 
Richard Sainthill. Dublin, 1861. p. 30. 




room except his brotlier Edward, and was very 
well made.' 


St Emerantia, virgin, martyr, about 304. St Clement 
of Ancyra, martyr, 304. St Agatliangelus, 304. St 
Eusebius, abbot in Assyria, 4th century. Ildefonsus, 
archbishop of Toledo, 667. St John the Almoner, 
patriarch of Alexandria, about 7th century. St Raymond 
of Pennafort, 1275. 


St Eusebius ' took nourishment only once in 
four days, but would not allow any of his monks 
to pass above two days without eating.' — Butler. 
The intervals were rather long, but, on Eusebius's 
part, the proportions were generous. 


Haymond of Pennafort was a Spanish saint, 
who derived his fame from having been one of 
the earliest and most devoted of the order of St 
Dominick. By wonderful exertions as a missionary 
preacher, he restored large portions of his country 
to Christianity, which had previously been wholly 
in possession of the Moors. Towards the end of 
his life, having been taken by James king of 
Arragon to the island of Majorca, he met there 
with the most brilliant success in converting the 
pagan inhabitants, but found all his happiness 
blighted by the personal immorality of the king. 
Failing to bring him to a better life, he desired 
to leave the island ; but this the king would not 
permit. He even threatened with death any one 
who should help the holy man to make his escape. 
What followed may be stated in the words of 
Butler. ' The saint, fuU of confidence in God, 
said to his companion, " A king of the earth 
endeavours to deprive us of the means of re- 
tiring; but the King of heaven will supply them." 
He then walked boldly to the waters, spread his 
cloak upon them, tied up one corner of it to a 
stafi" for a sail, and having made the sign of the 
cross, stepped upon it without fear, whilst his 
timorous companion stood trembling and wonder- 
ing on the shore. On this new kind of vessel the 
saint was wafted with such rapidity that in six 
hours he reached the harbour of Barcelona, sixty 
leagues distant from Majorca. Those who saw 
him arrive in this manner met him with acclama- 
tions. But he, gathering up his cloak dry, put 
it on, stole through the crowd, and entered his 
monastery. A chapel and a tower, built on the 
place where he landed, have transmitted the 
memory of this miracle to posterity. This rela- 
tion,' says our author, with all desirable gravity, 
' is taken from the bull of his canonization, and 
the earliest historians of his life. The king 
became a sincere convert, and governed his con- 
science, and even his kingdoms, by the advice of 
St Raymond, from that time till the death of the 

Died. — James Earl of Moray, Regent of Scotland, 
1570; William Pitt, statesman, 1806; Sir Francis 
Burdett, political character, 1844; Archdeacon Hare, 


The last months of the life of this great states- 
man were embittered by a succession of defeats 
and reverses, such as might break the proudest 
or the most stoical spirit that ever swayed the 
destinies of a great nation. The overthrow of 
the new coalition which he had succeeded in 
foi'ming against the French ascendency in the 
latter part of 1805, is supposed to have combined 
with the vexation arising from the impeachment 
of his friend. Lord Melville, to destroy him. 
Nevertheless, the vigour of his inteUectual facul- 
ties, and the intrepid haughtiness of his spirit, 
remained to appearance unaltered. But he could 
not conceal from the public eye the decay of his 
health, and the constant anxiety which gnawed at 
his heart. He had staked everything on a great 
venture. When the news came of Napoleon's 
defeat of the great Austrian army and the sur- 
render of Ulm, the minister would give no credit 
to the rumour ; when it was confirmed, he tried 
to bear up, but death was in his face. The news 
of the victory of Trafalgar, which arrived in a 
few days, seemed to revive him ; and in two days 
more, when he dined on Lord Mayor's day in 
Guildhall, in returning thanks for his health 
being drunk, he said, " Let us hope that England, 
having saved herself by her energy, may save 
Europe by her example." These were the last 
words that he uttered in public. But Auster- 
litz soon completed what Ulm had begun ; and 
the peculiar look which Pitt wore after this 
calamitous event, was described by Wilberforce 
as the Austerlltz looh. 

Early in December, Pitt retired to Bath, hoping 
that he might there gather strength for the coming 
session of Parliament. While there the news 
reached him of a decisive battle that had been 
fought and lost in Moravia, and that the coalition 
was dissolved. He sank under the blow. He 
came up from Bath by slow journeys, and on 
the 11th of January, 1806, reached his villa at 
Putney. On the 20th was to be the parliamentary 
dinner at the house of the First Lord of the 
Treasury, in Downing- street ; and the cards 
were already issued. But the days of the great 
minister were numbered. 

The villa is pleasantly situated upon Putney 
Heath, surrounded by a few acres of pleasure 
ground ; and the minister's only chance for life 
was, that he should spend some months in such 
repose as this rural retreat afforded. His col- 
leagues in the ministry paid him short visits, and 
carefully avoided conversation on politics. But 
his spirit was not quenched even in this extremity. 
His friend, the Marquess Wellesley, had, a few 
days before Mr Pitt's return to Putney, arrived 
in England, after an absence of eight years in 
India. He wrote to Mr Pitt, who, on the 12th 
of January, replied from Putney Hill, acknow- 
ledging to have received, with inexpressible 
pleasure, the Marquess's ' most friendly and 
affectionate letter, requesting to see him at the 
first possible moment,' adding, ' I am recovering 
rather slowly from a series of stomach complaints, 
followed by severe attacks of gout ; but I beUeve 
I am now in the way of real amendment.' 

This was one of the last letters Mr Pitt ever 



THE BOOK OF DAYS. opening of eoyal exchange. 

wrote. lie received the Marquess witli his usual 
kindness and good luuuour ; lie talked cheerfully, 
and with an unclouded luind, and sjiokc in the 
warmest terms of commendation of the Mar- 
quess's brother, Arthur, saying, 'I never met 
with any military officer with whom it was so 
satisfiictory to converse. He states every diffi- 
culty before he \indcrtakes any service, but none 
after he has undertaken it.' But the Marquess 
saw that the hand of death was upon the minister, 
although the melancholy truth was not known nor 
believed by either his friends or his opponents. 

The excitement of this interview was too much 
for the sick man ; he fainted away, and Lord 
Wellesley left the house, convinced that the close 
was fast approaching. 

Lord AYellesley having learned that an amend- 
ment hostile to Mr Pitt was to be proposed in 
the House of Commons, warned Lord Granville 
of the minister's approaching death ; he received 
the fatal intelligence with a burst of tears, and 
on the first day there was no debate. It w"as 
rumoured that evening that Mr Pitt was better ; 
but on the following morning his physicians 
pronounced that there were no hopes. ' The 
commanding faculties,' says Lord Macaulay, ' of 
which he had been too proud, were now beginning 
to fail. His old tutor and friend, the Bishop of 
Lincoln, informed him of his danger, and gave 
such religious advice and consolation as a con- 
fused and obscured mind could receive. Stories 
were told of devout sentiments fervently littered 
by the dying man. But these stories found no 
credit with anybody who knew liim. Wilber- 
force pronounced it impossible that they could 
be true. " Pitt," he added, " always said less than 
he thought on such topics." It was asserted in 
many after-dinner speeches, Grub-street elegies, 
and academic prize poems, and prize declama- 
tions, that the great minister died exclaiming, 
" Oh ! my country ! " This is a fable ; but it is 
true that the last words which he uttered, while 
he knew what he said, were broken exclamations 
about the alarming state of public affairs. He 
ceased to breathe on the morning of the 23rd of 
January 1806, the twenty-fifth anniversary of the 
day on which he first took his seat in Parliament. 
He was in his forty-seventh year, and had been, 
during near nineteen years, excepting for a short 
interval, First Lord of the Treasury, and undis- 
puted chief of the administration. Since parlia- 
mentary government was established in England, 
no English statesman had held supreme power so 
long. Walpole, it is true, was First Lord of the 
Treasury during more than twenty years ; but 
it was not till Walpole had been some time First 
Lord of the Treasury that he could be properly 
called Prime Minister.' 

"With respect to the last moments of the great 
mbiister, it was told to a visitor to the house at 
Putney HUl, in 1817, by a person who was in the 
chamber a little before Mr Pitt's death, that ' it 
was heated to a very high and oppressive tem- 
perature ; and that the deep voice of the dying 
minister, as he asked his valet a question, 
startled the visitor who had been unused to it. 
He died calmly, and apparently under none of 
those political perturbations which, at the period, 
were ascribed to his last moments.' 

A public funeral and a monument were voted 
to Pitt by Parliament. The funeral took place 
on the 22nd of February : the corpse, having lain 
in state during two days in the Painted Chamber, 
was borne, with great pomp, to the northern 
transept of Westminster Abbey. A splendid 
train of princes, nobles, and privy councillors 
followed. The grave of Pitt had been made near 
to the spot where his great father, Lord Chatham, 
lay, and near also to the spot where his great 
rival (Fox) was soon to lie : 

' The mighty chiefs sleep side by side ; 
Drop upon Fox's grave the tear, 
'TwiU trickle to his rival's bier.' — Scott. 

Wilberforce, who carried the banner before Pitt's 
hearse, described the ceremony with deep feeling. 
As the coffin descended into the earth, he said, 
the eagle face of Chatham from above seemed to 
look down with consternation into the dark house 
which was receiving all that remained of so much 
power and glory. 


In the sixteenth century, Antwerp had led the 
way in preparing a house specially for the daily 
assembling of merchants — what was then called 
a Byrsa or Burse, a term of mediaeval Latin, im- 
plying expressly a purse, but more largely a place 
of treasure. The want of such a point of daily ren- 
dezvous was felt in London as early as the reign of 
Henry VIII. ; but it was not till the days of his 
lion-hearted daughter that the idea was realised, 
through the exertions and liberality of the cele- 
brated Sir Thomas Gresham, a London merchant, 
who had been royal agent at Antwerp, and am- 
bassador at the minor Italian Court of Parma. 

Sir Thomas met w ith innumerable difficulties 
in the preliminary arrangements for building his 
Burse. Some of the merchants preferred the old 
place of assembling in Lombard-street; others 
advocated a site between Lombard-street and 
Cornhill. At length we find the wardens of the 
twelve principal companies calling upon Gresham 
at his mansion in Bishopsgate- street, at eight 
o'clock in the morning, to make arrangements for 
the site. It was then settled that the houses to 
be removed for the site — including a ' little old 
house in Cornehill, inhabited by a widow, which 
the cytte was driven to buy' for 100 marks- 
should all be cleared away for the workmen ' to 
fall in hand with the foundation.' Thirty-eight 
houses— some of them cottages, a store-house, 
and two gardens — were demolished in order to 
make room for the Burse. 

The simple manner in which the edifice was 
given to the citizens is not the least striking 
incident. On the 9th of February 1565-G, Sir 
Thomas Gresham, at the house of Alderman 
E-ivers, in company with Sir William Garrard, 
Sir WiUiam Cheeton, Thomas Eowe, and other 
citizens, 'most frankly and lovingly promised' 
that within a month after the Burse should be 
fully finished, he would present it, in equal 
moieties, to the City and the Mercers' Company. 
In token of his sincerity, he thereupon gave his 
hand to Sir WiUiam Garrard, and, in the presence 
of his assembled friends, drank a carouse to his 
kinsman, Thomas Eowe. ' How rarely,' remarks 




Mr BurtTon, ' do ancient documents furnish us 
Avitli such a picture of ancient manners ! ' The 
first stone of the buildinsr was laid by Gresham, 
June 7, 15G6. 

On the 23rd of January 1570-1, the building 
was opened by Queen Elizabeth. Stow relates 

that 'the Queen's Majesty, attended with her 
nobility, came from her house at the Strande, 
called Somerset Ilouse, and entred the citie by 
Temple-bar, through Fleete-streete, Cheap, and so 
by the north side of the Burse, to Sir Thomas 
Gresham's in Bishopsgate-streete, where she dined. 



After dinner, her Majestie, returning through 
Cornhill, entered the Burse on the south side ; 
and after that she had viewed every part thereof 
above the ground, especially the Pawn, which 
was richly furnished with all sorts of the finest 
wares in the city, she caused the same Burse by 
an herald and trumpet to be proclaimed the 
Boyal Exchange, and so to be called from thence- 
forth, and not otherwise.' 

Such is the brief account which has been trans- 
mitted to us of the event from which the Burse, 
as it was then called, dates its present name ; by 
one who was probably an eye-witness of the scene 
he describes. The only other contemporary notice 
Mr Burgon has met with of this memorable pas- 
sage in the annals of the metropolis occurs in the 
accounts of the churchwardens of St Margaret's, 
Westminster ; where is recorded that the bell- 
ringers were paid 4d. 'for ringing when the 
Queen's Majesty went to the Bursse;' and 8d. 
'for ringing when the Queen's Majesty went to 
Sir Thomas Gresham's and came back again.' 

In tlie Bodleian Library is a Latin play, in five 
acts, entitled liijvsa Basilica, &c., being a dramatic 
account of the building and opening of the Ex- 
change, conceived in the most fantastic strain, 
according to the taste of the age. There is also 
extant a play, by Thomas Hey wood, describing the 
building of the Burse, and referring in every page 
to Gresham. It is entitled, If you knoio not 'me you 
Tcnownohody : or, the Trouhles 'of Queen Elizabeth. 
4to, 1606. In this play Heywood has followed 
Stow's narrative very faithfidly till the queen 

comes to visit Gresham, and name the Burse ; 
but here the poet can no longer restrain his in- 
vention. Gresham purchases a pearl which no 
one could afford to buy, and, in imitation of 
Cleopatra, drinks it, reduced to powder, in a cup 
of wine. 

' Here fifteen hundred pound at one clap goes ! 
Instead of sugar, Gresham drinks the pearl 
Unto his queen and mistress : pledge it, lords ! ' 

That Gresham drank a carouse to the queen is 
not unlikely, but there is no reason for believing 
that the royal merchant was addicted to such 
royal draughts as Heywood describes. The 
incident was probably borrowed from the history 
of Sir William Capel, of whom a similar story is 
related by Fuller, in his IForthies. — Burgons 
Life and Times of Sir Thomas Gresham, vol. ii. 
pp. 351 — 351. 


It is noted in Dr Langbaine's Collections, under 
January 23, 1617, that John Shurle had a patent 
from Arthur Lake, Bishop of Bath and Wells, 
and Yice-Chancellor of Oxford, for the office of 
ale-taster [to the University] and the making and 
assizing of bottles of hay. The office of ale- 
tasting reciuires that he go to every ale-brewer 
that day they brew, according to their courses, 
and taste their ale ; for which his ancient fee is 
one gallon of strong ale and two gallons of small 
wort, worth a penny.' * 

* Reliquiae llearniana!, i. 38. 





23rd January 1642 [1643], was pxiblislied ' A 
great Wonder in Heaven, shewing, &c.,' — a tliin 
hroch lire now exceedingly rare. Its statement was 
to the efleot, that on' a Saturday in the by-past 
Christmas time, there had occurred at Keniton, 
in Northamptonshire, the apparition and noise 
of a battle in the air, a ghostly repetition of 
the conflict which two months before had taken 
place on the adjacent fields at Edgehill between 
the forces of the King and the Parliament. It 
was between twelve and one in the morning that 
there was ' heard, by some shepherds and other 
countrymen and travellers, first the sound of 
drums afar ofl', and the noise of soldiers, as it 
were, giving out their last groans ; at which they 
were much amazed, and amazed stood still, till it 
seemed by the nearness of the noise to approach 
them ; at which, too much affrighted, they sought 
to withdraw as fast as possibly they could ; but 
then on a sudden, while they were in these 
cogitations, appeared in the air the same incor- 
poreal soldiers that made those clamours, and 
immediately, with ensigns displayed, drums beat- 
ing, muskets going off, cannons discharged, horses 
neighing, which also to these men were visible, 
the alarum or entrance to this game of death 
was struck up ; one army, which gave the first 
charge, having the King's colours, and the other 
the Parliament's, in theu' head or front of the 
battles, and so pell-mell to it they went; the 
battle that appeared to [be] the King's forces 
seeming at first to have the best, but afterwards 
to be put into apparent rout. But till two or 
three in the morning in equal scale continued 
this dreadful fight, the clattering of arms, noise 
of cannons, cries of soldiers, so amazing and 
terrifying the poor men, that they could not 
believe they were mortal, or give credit to their 
ears and eyes. Bun away they durst not, for 
fear of being made a prey to these infernal 
soldiers; and so they, with much fear and afiright, 
stayed to behold the success of the business. . . . 
After some three hours' fight, that army which 
carried the King's colours withdrew, or rather 
appeared to fly ; the other remaining, as it were, 
masters of the field, stayed a good space triumph- 
ing, and expressing all the signs of joy and con- 
quest, and then, with all their drums, trumpets, 
ordnance, and soldiers, vanished. The poor men, 
glad they were gone, made with all haste to 
Keniton ; and there knocking up Mr Wood, a 
justice of the peace, who called up his neighbour, 
Mr Marshall, the minister, they gave them an 
account of the whole passage, and avei*red it upon 
their oaths to be true.' 

What follows is most remarkable of all. The 
gentlemen thus apprised of what had taken 
place, ' suspending their judgments till the next 
night about the same hour, they, with the same 
men, and all the substantial men of that and 
the neighbouring parishes, drew thither ; where, 
about half an hour after their arrival, on Sunday, 
being Christmas night, appeared, in the same 
tumultuous warlike manner, the same two ad- 
verse armies, fighting with as miich spite and 
spleen as formerly. . . . The next night they 
appeared not, nor aU that week. . , . But on 

the ensuing Saturday night, in the same place, 
and at the same hour, they were again seen with 
far greater tumult, fighting in the manner above 
mentioned for four hours, or very near, and then 
vanished, appearing again on Sunday night, and 
performing the same actions of hostility and blood- 
shed. . . . Successively the next Saturday and Sun- 
day the same tumults and prodigious sights and 
actions were put in the state and condition they 
were formerly. The rumour whereof coming to 
his Majesty at Oxford, he immediately dispatched 
thither Colonel Lewis Kirke, Captain Dudley, 
Captain Waithman, and three other gentlemen 
of credit, to take the full view and notice of the 
said business ; Avho, first hearing the relation of 
Mr Marshall and others, stayed there till Saturday 
night following, wherein they saw and heard the 
fore-mentioned prodigies, and so on Sunday, 
distinctly knowing divers of the apparitions by 
their faces, as that of Sir Edmund Varney, and 
others that were there slain ; of which, upon 
oatli, they made testimony to his Majesty.'* 


January 23, 1748, the Hon, Charles Townshend, 
writing to a friend, says, 'I cannot go to the Opera, 
because I have forsworn all expense which does 
not end in pleasing me.'f If this were a rule 
generally followed, and the reserved means be- 
stowed in judicious efforts for the good of others, 
what an improved world it would be ! 

Charles Townshend is one of the minor cele- 
brities of the last century : he died in 1767, at 
the age of forty-two. Burke, refei-ring some 
years after to his services in parliament, said he 
could not even then speak of Charles Townshend 
without some degree of sensibility. ' He was the 
delight and ornament of this House, and the 
charm of every private society which he honoured 
with his presence. Perhaps there never arose in 
this country, nor in any country, a man of more 
pointed and finished wit, and (where his passions 
were not concerned) of a more refined, exquisite 
and penetrating judgment.' 

It was the good fortune of Charles to gain 
favour with a young and noble widow, the 
Countess of Dalkeith (daughter of John Duke 
of Argyll, and mother of Henry Duke of Buc- 
cleuch). Sir Walter Scott relates the following 
anecdote regarding this alliance : ' When he 
[Charles Townshend] came to Scotland [after the 
marriage], the tide of relations, friends, and 
vassals, who thronged to welcome the bride, were 
so negligent of her husband, as to leave him in 
the hall, while they hurried his lady forwards 
into the state apartments, until he checked their 
haste by exclaiming, "Eor Heaven's sake, gentle- 
men, consider I am at least Prince George of 
Denmark !" ' J 

This union introduced Mr Townshend to the 
society of the then brilliant circle of Scottish 
literati. But, if we may depend upon the judg- 
ment of the Eev. Alexander Carlyle, these gentle- 
men judged his talents to be more of a showy 
* Copied (with modernised spelling) from tbe tran- 
script of the original brochure, Appendix to Lord Nugent's 
Life of John Hampden, ii. 468. 
f Jesse's Life of George Selwyn. 
X Quarterly Review, xxxiv. 202. 




tliau a solid character ; and ' at the end of two 
months,' says this shrewd observer, ' he had 
stayed long enough here.' Carlyle gives the 
following sketch of an afternoon spent with the 
English stranger : 

' I called on him one morning at Dalkeith, 
when he said I had come most a-propos, if not 
engaged, for that he was going to ride to Edin- 
burgh to make some calls : and his wife being 
engaged to dine with the Duchess of Gordon, he 
would be very glad of a small party in a tavern. 
I agreed, and we rode to Edinburgh together. 
When we drew near that city, he begged me to 
ride on and bespeak a small dinner at a tavern, 
and get a friend or two if I could to join us, as he 
must turn to the left to call on some people who 
lived in that direction. I went to town directly, 
and luckily found Home and Ferguson in Kin- 
caid[the bookseller] 's shop, and sent a cady* to 
Robertson, to ask him to meet us at the Cross 
Keys soon after two o'clock, who likewise came. 
During dinner, and for almost an hour after, 
Charles, who seemed to be fatigued by his 
morning visits, spoke not a single word, and we 
four went on with our kind of conversation 
without adverting to Mr Townshend's absence. 
After he had drunk a pint of claret, he seemed 
to awaken from his reverie, and then silenced us 
all with a torrent of colloquial eloquence, which 
was highly entertaining, for he gave us all our own 
ideas over again, embodied in the finest language, 
and delivered in the most impressive manner. 
When he parted from us, my friends remarked 
upon his excellence in this talent, in which 
Hobertson agreed with them, without, perhaps, 
being conscious that he was the most able pro- 
ficient in that art.'f 

Charles Townshend fully appears to have been 
one of those persons with showy and superficial 
talents who make an impression on all around 
them, but produce no permanent good results. 
He could move and delight men, but not improve 
or guide them. In some peculiar circumstances, 
and at certain crises, his gift of the tongue might 
have proved serviceable ; but, usually, such powers 
are only calculated to create or support delusions, 
by making the worse appear the better reason. 
Public men possessed of fascinating eloquence 
should in general be viewed with suspicion, and 
carefully guarded against, for they are apt to do 
great mischief. To make a pulpit* orator a leader 
in a church, or raise a clever special pleader to a 
place in the cabinet council, are dangerous move- 
ments. In general, the powers which have made 
them famous are, at the best, useless in grave 
and important circumstances ; often, the prestige 
which these powers have given, only enables 
them to interfere injuriously with the course 
pointed out by the wise. Perilous it is for a 
country to have a political system in which 
brilliant parliamentary oratory is allowed any 
but a moderate sway. It might be of some 
service to inqiiire how often mere oratory has 
been on the side of what was just, reasonable, 
and for the good of a state, and how often the 
reverse ; and whether, on the whole, the affairs of 

* A street message-carrier was so called in the northern 
t Autobiography of Alexander Carlyle, 1860, p. 391. 

nations and of individuals would not have been 
in a better case at this moment, if there never 
had existed any man capable of standing uj) and 
sawing the air, and puffing and sweating, while 
pouring out an ocean of exaggerated plirases cal- 
culated to work on the feelings of a multitude. 


This event took place on the 23rd of January 
1844, when Sir Francis had attained his seventy- 
fourth year. The strain of political sentiment 
which made him the idol of the populace in the 
reign of George III., had long given place to 
strong conservatism, and he necessarily became 
a man of little political note in his latter 
years. When we remember the Gracchus-like 
IDOsition of Sir Francis in April 1810 — ordered 
to the Tower for a libel on the House of Com- 
mons, and standing a siege of horse and foot in 
his house in Piccadilly for several days before 
the warrant could be executed — the story of his 
death reads strangely. It was the fortune of this 
fine old English gentleman to be united to a 
daughter of Mr Coutts the banker; and the pair 
had lived together with singular attachment and 
harmony for upwards of fifty years. Towards 
the close of 1843, Lady Burdett's state of health 
excited great alarm in her family. She died on 
the 10th of January 1844. Her death sounded 
her husband's knell. She who had so long been 
the partner and sharer of his joys and troubles, 
the mother of his children, the friend of his soul, 
being now removed, from that instant life became 
an insupportable burthen to him. Resolutely 
refusing food or nourishment of any kind, he 
died on the 23rd of the same month ; and man 
and wife were buried side by side in the same 
vaults, at the same hour, on the same day, in the 
church of Ramsbury, Wilts. 


Obviously a good end would be served if examjiles 
of a reasonable treatment of servants, followed by 
good results, were occasionally presented for the con- 
sideration of masters and mistresses. Mr Pitt, who 
was so able a servant of the state, was also a good 
master to his own domestics : that is, he did not fail 
to recognise good conduct in his servants, and to treat 
them with due consideration of their numerous duties. 
He was likewise very quick iu the perception of 
qualities which recommend an individual for domestic 
service, of which the following is an interesting in- 
stance : 

Mr Pitt once obtained a servant in a very odd way. 
Piiding on the moors with a friend, they came up with 
a flock of geese, dr-iven by a boy, with a bit of red 
rag at the end of a long stick. ' We must ride round,' 
said Mr Pitt, ' we shall never get through this im- 
mense flock.' 'Yes, but you may,' cried a sharp- 
looking boy, who had heard him, 'if you will only 
keep your horses quiet. Sh — sh— ee — ayi — ayi !' and 
the boy waved his stick here and there, and in a 
minute or two the flock opened, and, wheehng to the 
left and right in regidar columns, made a passage 
through which they rode. ' That must be a clever 
lad,' observed Mr Pitt ; ' he manoeuvres his little army 
in a wonderful manner — a general could not do it 
better ;' and he ordered the groom to inquire to whom 
he belonged. A day or two afterwards, he was sent 
for, and put in the stables. Next he was made an 
imdcr-groom ; then taken to town to wait on the 





upper servants, and afterwards made a footman. One 
day, ^Ir l*itt went down to Holwood, in Kent, Avitli 
Mr Dundas and three or four friends, to talk over 
l)arIiamontary business : some time Lefoi-e the dinner- 
hour, the cook was seized with ajioplexy, wliich so 
affected the hntler and occasional valet that ho fell 
with a lit of i:;i>ut. Mr I'itt grew anxious about the 
dinner, when the young man wliom he had advanced 
from gooseherd to footuran, said, ' Don't, sir, send oil" 
any express for a cook ; if you think projier, the maid 
shall cook the dinner. These are your intimate friends, 
and will take no notice : their servants as yet know 
nothing of the matter, for I thought they might be 
frightened to be where there is a dead man. Let me 
manage, and all will go well, without any alarm being 
spread.' He accordingly dressed Mr Pitt, saw to 
everything, and acquitted himself so well, that Mr 
Pitt soon after made him his valet ; but he did not 
live much longer, to have his services recompensed. 
He was an excellent servant. Mr Pitt would some- 
times order him to precede him a day or two to a 
place he was about to visit. ' You will excuse me, 
sir,' the man would reply : 'but I mustn't go ; for if 
I do, who will attend you when you take your physic 
to-morrow ? You will be busy, and put it off ; and 
nobody knows how to give it but myself. ' ' Well, 
well,' Mr Pitt would answer, 'do so, then;' and 
would add, ' Ah ! he is very anxious about me — I 
must let him have his own way.' 


St Timothy, disciple of St Paul, martyr at Ephesus, 
97. St Babylas, bishop of Antioch, about 250. Sc 
Macedonius of Syria, 5th century. St Cadocus or Cadoc, 
abbot of Wales, 6th century. St Surauus, abbot in 
Umbria, martyr, 7th century. 

Born. — Charles Earl of Dorset, poet, 1637; Frederick 
the Great, 1712 ; Pierre A. Caron de Beaumarchais, 
musical composer, Paris, 1732. 

Died. — Justice Henry Yelverton, 1050 ; James Ralph, 
pohtical writer, 1762. 


A wit among lords, a generous friend to lite- 
rary men, himself a fair Avriter of verses, gay but 
not reckless, honest far above his time, so much 
a favourite that, do what he liked, the world never 
thought him in the wrong, — Dorset claims some 
respect even in a later and better age. His poems 
are merely a bunch of trifles ; yet there is some 
heart, and also some feeling of the deeper realities 
of life, under the rosy badinage of his well-known 
ballad. To all yoiL ladies now at land, professedly 
indited at sea the night before an engagement 
"with the Dutch fleet, but stated to have been in 
reality the w-ork of about a week :* 

'When any mournfid tune you hear. 

That dies in every note. 
As if it sighed with each man's care, 

For being so remote ; 
Think how often love we've made 
To you, when all those tunes were played. 
'In justice you can not refuse 

To think of our cUstress, 
When we, for hopes of houoiu-, lose 

Our certain ha2>piness ; 
AH those designs are but to prove 
Ourselves more worthy of your love.' 

* Life by A. Chalmers, Brit. Poets, viii. 339. 


Frederick II., King of Prussia, son of Frederick 
William I. and of ISophia Dorothea, Princess of 
Hanover, and surnamed the Great for his talents 
and successes, was, in his boyhood, treated with 
extreme severity, through the antagonism of his 
parents. His youthful tuition was rigid, its sole 
object being military exercises ; but he received 
the rudiments of his education from a French 
lady. The taste he acquired through her means 
for polite literature, was strongly opposed to the 
system of his coarse father, who would say, ' My 
eldest son is a coxcomb, proud, and has a fine 
French spirit, that spoils all my plans.' The 
conduct of the old savage towards him was both 
harsli and cruel ; it was still more so to any one 
to whom he was attached, or who was in any way, 
agreeable to the prince. A young girl, who had 
played on the pianoforte while the prince accom- 
panied her on the flute, was publicly flogged by 
the executioner iu the streets of Potsdam. The 
queen could not endure this injustice towards her 
son, and arranged that he should seek refuge in 
England with his maternal uncle George II. 
This secret plan, whicli was confided only to the 
prince's sister, and two lieutenants, his friends, 
was discovered by the King, who, finding that his 
son had already quitted the palace, sent soldiers 
in search of him, and lie was discovered just as 
he was getting into a chariot to carry him to 
Saxony. One of the lieutenants, his companions, 
escaped by the fleetness of his horse ; but the 
other was carried back to Potsdam with the 
prince ; both being handcufied like malefactors, 
and thrown into separate dungeons ; and the 
princess, who implored the king to pardon her 
brother, was thrown from one of the palace 

The King had made up his mind that his son 
should die on the scaffold : ' He will always be a 
disobedient subject,' said he, ' and I have three 
other boys who are more than his equals.' His 
life was only saved by the intercession of the 
Emperor of Austria, Charles VI., through his 
ambassador. Count Seckendorf. Nor could the 
King bring his son to trial ; for neither the 
ministers nor generals would sit in judgment upon 
the heir to the crown of Prussia, which so enraged 
the King that he sent the prince to be confined 
for life in a fortress at Custrin. Previously to his 
being conveyed to prison, the lieutenant who had 
been taken with him, was, by the King's order, 
executed upon a lofty scafibld, opposite the win- 
dows of the apartment in which the prince was 
confined. At Custrin, he saw no one but the 
governor of the fortress ; books, pens, paper, and 
his flute, were all denied him. When he had 
been imprisoned a year, the resentment of his 
father abated ; he was ordered to Berlin ; and 
there, at a grand fete at the palace, Frederick, in 
a grey suit, the only one he had been permitted 
to wear since his disgrace, was placed behind the 
chair of his mother. He then grew in favour 
with his father, who, however, could not forgive 
his disinclination for military exercises, and his 
love of music and the fine arts ; but above all 
his preference of foreign fashions to the plain, 
inelegant Prussian uniform, which the King so 




liked. Yet this prince, liaving ascended the 
tliroue, established the military renown of Prus- 
sia, and became one of the most famous generals 
in history ; leaving to his successor a kingdom 
enlarged from 2190 to 3515 German square miles, 
and an army of 200,000 men. 

Notwithstanding his fame as a monarch, Icgis- 
Jator, and man of letters, Frederick, according to 
his own account, spent the happiest years of his 
life, when he was a youth, in the chateau of 
Kheinsberg, not far from Berlin. 


The invention of the vane, or weathercock, must 
have been of very early date. Vitruvius calls it triton, 
probably from its having in his time the form of a triton. 
The usual form on towers, castles, and secular build- 
ings, was that of a banner ; but on ecclesiastical edi- 
fices, it generally was a representation of the male of 
the barn-door fowl. According to Ducange, the 
cock was originally devised as an emblem of clerical 
vigilance, or what it ought to be. Apart from sym- 
bolism, the large tail of the cock was well adapted to 
turn with the wind. 

Many churches have for a vane the emblem of the 
saints to whom they are dedicated : thus, St Peter's, 
Cornhill, London, is surmounted with a key, St Peter 
being said to keep the key of heaven. St Laurence 
has for a vane, a gridiron ; and St Laurence, at Nor- 
wich, has the gridiron, with the holy martyr extended 
upon the bars. The vane upon St Mildred's Church, 
in the Poultry, is a gilt ship in full sail ; and that of 
St Michael's, Queenhithe, is a ship, the hull of which 
will hold a bushel of grain, referring to the former 
trafBc in corn at the hithe. 

St Sepulchre's Church, Skinner-street, has ioxir pin- 
nacles, each with a vane, which led Howell to say : 
' Unreasonable people are as hard to reconcile as the 
vanes of St Sepulchre's tower, which never looked all 
four upon one point of the heavens.' 

The grasshopper of the Royal Exchange is the vane 
which surmounted the former Exchange. It is of 
copper-gilt, eleven feet long, and represents the crest 
of Sir Thomas Gresham, the founder of the first 
Exchange. But the old civic tradition that this was 
adopted as an heraldic symbol, from a grassho})per 
having saved his life when he was a poor famished 
boy, by attracting a person to the spot where he lay 
in a helpless condition, — is not supported by fact ; 
since the letters of Sir Thomas Gresham's father, 
which are in the Paston collection, bear a seal -with 
the grasshop2)er. This was likewise the sign of Gres- 
ham, placed over the door of his bauking-house and 
goldsmith's shop, in liOmbard- street : this grass- 
hopper, which was of large size and gilt, existed entire 
until the year 1795, when the house, now No. 68, was 

The dragon upon the spire of Bow Church, in Cheap- 
side, is another celebrated vane : it is of copper gilt, 
eleven feet in length, and when it was re-gilt in 1820, 
a young Irishman descended from the spire-point on 
the back of the dragon, pushing it from the cornices 
and scaffolds with his feet, in the presence of thou- 
sands of spectators. One of Mother Shipton's pro- 
phecies was, that when the dragon of Bow Church and 
the grasshopper of the Boyal Exchange should meet, 
London streets would be deluged with blood ! In 
1820, both these vanes were lying together in the yard 
of a stonemason in Old-street-road, but, happily, the 
prophecy was not fulfilled. 

The vane at Fotheriugay Church, Northamptonshire, 
represents the falcon and fetterlock, the badge of the 
Dukes of York. 

JANUARY 25. . 

St Juventinus and Maximinus, martyrs at Antlocb, 
363. Sc Apollo, abbot in Thebais, about 393. St 
Publius, abbot in Syria, 4th century. St Projectus 
(or St Prix), bishop of Clermont, martyr, C7-1. St 
Poppo, abbot of Stavello, 1048. 

The festival of the Conversion of St Paul, 
instituted by the church in gratitude for so 
miraculous and so important an instance of the 
Divine power, ' a perfect model of a true con- 
version,' is mentioned in several calendars and 
missals of the eighth and ninth centuries. ' It 
was for some time kept a holiday of obligation in 
most churches of the West ; and we read it 
mentioned as such in England in the council of 
Oxford, in 1222, in the reign of King Henry III.' 
— Butler. It is still a festival of the Anglican, 
as well as other churches. 

The day has also a celebrity of another descrip- 
tion, the origin of which has not yet been dis- 
covered. It has been an article of constant belief 
in Western Europe, during the middle ages, and 
even down to our own time, that the whole 
character of the coming year is prognosticated 
by the condition of the weather on this day ; 
and this is the more singidar, as the day itself 
was one of those to which the old proguostica- 
tors gave the character of a dies ^ff!/ptiacus, or 
unlucky day. The special knowledge of the 
future, which it was believed might be derived 
from it, were arranged under four heads, in four 
monkish Latin verses, which are found very 
frequently in the manuscripts of the middle ages, 
and prevailed equally on the continent and in 
our own island. The following is the most correct 
copy of these verses that we have been able to 
obtain (in copies of a later date, attempts were 
made to improve the style of the Latin, which 
in some degree destroyed their quaintness) : 

' Clara dies PauH bona tempora denotat anni ; 
Si nix vel pluvia, desiguat tempora cara ; 
Si fiant nebulae, pereunt animaiia quseque ; 
Si tiant venti, designat prrelia genti.' 

Fair weather on St Paul's day thus betided a 
prosperous year ; snow or rain betokened a dear 
year, and therefore an unfruitful one ; clouds 
foreboded great mortality among cattle ; and 
winds were to be the forerunners oi war. Several 
old translations of these lines into verse in French 
and English are met with ; the following is one 
of the English versions : 

' If St Paul's day be fair and clear, 
It does betide a happy year ; 
But if it chance to snow or rain, 
Then wiU be dear all kind of grain ; 
If clouds or mists do dark the skie. 
Great store of birds and beasts shall die ; 
And if the winds do flie aloft. 
Then war shall vexe the kingdome oft.' 

Other days in the month of January enjoyed at 
different times, and in different places, a similar 
reputation among the old prognosticators, but 
none of them were anything like so generally 
held and believed in as the day of the Conversion 
of St Paul. 





lu tlie reign of Philip and Mary (1555), tliis 
day was observed in tlio luctropolis -nitli great 
processional state. In the Chronicle of the Greif 
Friars of London, Ave read that 'on St Paul's day 
there was a general procession with the children 
of all the schools in London, with all the clerks, 
curates, and parsons, and vicars, in copes, with 
their crosses ; also the choir of St Paul's ; and 
divers bishops in their habits, and the Bishop of 
London, with his pontificals and cope, bearing 
the sacrament under a canopy, and four prebends 
bearing it in their gray amos ; and so iip into 
Leadenhall. with the mayor and aldermen in 
scarlet, with their cloaks, and all the crafts in 
their best array ; and so came down again on 
the other side, and so to St Paul's again. And 
tlien the king, with my lord cardinal, came to St 
Paul's, and heard masse, and went home again ; 
and at night great bonfires were made through 
all London, for the joy of the people that were 
converted likewise as St Paul was converted.' 

Down to about this time there was observed, in 
connection with St Paul's Cathedral, a custom 
arising from an obligation incurred by Sir 
William Baud in 1375, when he was permitted 
to enclose twenty acres of the Dean's land, in 
consideration of presenting the clergy of the 
cathedral with a fat buck and doe yearly on the 
days of the Conversion and Commemoration of 
St Paul. ' On these days, the buck and the doe 
were brought by one or more servants at the 
hour of the procession, and through the midst 
thereof, and offered at the high altar of St Paul's 
Cathedral : after which the persons that brought 
the buck received of the Dean and Chapter, by 
the hands of their Chamberlain, twelve pence 
sterling for their entertainment ; but nothing 
when they brought the doe. The buck being 
brought to the steps of the altar, the Dean and 
Chapter, apparelled in copes and proper vest- 
ments, with garlands of roses on their heads, 
sent the body of the buck to be baked, and had 
the head and horns fixed on a pole before the 
cross, in their procession round about the church, 
till they issued at the west door, where the 
keeper that brought it blowed the death of the 
buck, and then the horns that were about the 
city answered him in like manner ; for which 
they had each, of the Dean and Chapter, three 
and fourpence in money, and their dinner; and 
the keeper, during his stay, meat, drink, and 
lodging, and five shillings in money at his going 
away ; together with a loaf of bread, having in it 
the picture of St Paul.'* 

Bom. — Robert Boyle, 1627, Lismore; Thomas Tanner, 
antiquary, 1674 ; Paul Whitehead, 1709 ; Robert Burns, 
1759; Sir Francis Burdett, 1770; James Hogg (the 
Ettrick Shepherd), poet, 1772 ; Benjamin Robert Haydon, 
painter, 1786, Plymouth; Daniel Maclise, artist, 1811, 

Died. — William Shield, dramatic composer, 1829. 


Eobert Burns, the Scottish poet, first saw the 
light on the 25th January 1759 in a small cottage 
by the wayside near the Bridge of Doon, two 

* Beauties of England, v. 486. i 

miles from Ayr. A wonderful destiny was that 
of the peasant's babe born that day — a life of 
toil, imprudence, poverty, closed in early death, 
but to be followed by an afflatus of popular 
admiration and sympathy such as never before 
nor since attended a literary name in any country. 
The strains of Burns touch all hearts. He has 
put words together, as scarcely any writer ever 
did before him. His name has become a steno- 
graph for a whole system of national feelings 
and predilections. Other poets, after death, have 
a tablet in Westminster Abbey, and occasional 


allusions in critical writings. But when the 
centenary of Burns's birth arrives, it is festively 
celebrated in every town in the country ; nay, 
wherever our language is spoken — alike in 
Federal America, in Canada, in Victoria, in Cal- 
cutta, in Hong Kong, in Natal — there is a pouring 
out of grateful sentiment in honour of Burns. 



Upon a stormy winter night 
Scotland's bright star first rose in sight ; 
Beaming upon as wild a sky 
As ever to prophetic eye 
Proclaimed, that Nature had on hand 
Some work to glorify the land. 
Within a lonely cot of clay, 
That night her gi-eat creation lay. 

Coila — the nymph who round his brow 
Twined the red-herried hoUy -bough — 
Her swift--\vinged heralds sent abroad, 
To summon to that bleak abode 
All who on Genius still attend, 
For good or evil to the end. 

They came obedient to her call : — 
The immortal infant knew them all. 

Sorrow and Poverty — sad pair — 
Came shivering through the wintry air : 
Hope, with her calm eyes fixed on Time, 
His crooked scythe hung with flakes of rime : 
Fancy, who loves abroad to roam, 
Flew gladly to that humble home : 




Pity and Love, who, hand in hand, 
Did by the sleeping infant stand : 
Wit, A\"ith a harem-skarem grace. 
Who smiled at Laughtei-'s dimpled face 
Labour, who came with sturdy tread. 

By high-souled Independence led : 
Care, who sat noiseless on the floor ; 
While Wealth stood up outside the door, 
Looking with scom on all who came. 
Until he heard the voice of fame, 


Aud then he bowed down to the ground : — 
Fame looked on Wealth with eyes profound, 
Then passed in without sign or soimd. 

Then Coila raised her hollied brow. 

And said, ' Who will this child endow ?' 

Said Love, ' I'll teach him all my lore, 

As it was never taught before ; 

Its joys and doubts, its hopes and fears. 

Smiles, kisses, sighs, delights, and tears.' 

Said Pity, ' It shall be my part 

To gift him with a gentle heart.' 

Said Independence, ' Stout and strong 

I'll make it to wage war with wrong. ' 

Said Wit, ' He shall have mirth and laughter, 

Though all the ills of life come after.' 

'Warbling her native wood-notes wild,' 

Fancy but stooped and kissed the child ; 

While through her fall of golden hair 

Hoije looked down -with a smile on Care. 

Said Labour, ' I will give him bread.' 

' And I a stone when he is dead,' 

Said Wealth, while Shame hung down her head. 

'He'll need no monument,' said Fame ; 
' I'll give him an immortal name ; 
When obelisks in ruin fall. 
Proud shall it stand alcove them all ; 
The daisy on the mountain side 
Shall ever spread it far and wide ; 
Even the road-side thistle down 
Shall blow abroad his high renown.' 

Said Time, ' That name, while I remain. 
Shall still increasing honour gain ; 
Till the sun sinks to rise no more, 
And my last sand falls on the shore 
Of that still, dark, and unsailed sea. 
Which opens on Eternity.' 

Time ceased : no sound the silence stirr'd. 
Save the soft notes as of a bird 
Singing a low sweet plaintive song. 
Which murmuring Doon seemed to prolong. 
As if the mate it fain would find 
Had gone and ' left a thorn ' behind. 

Upon the sleeping infant's face 
Each changing note could Coila trace. 

Then came a ditty, soft and slow. 

Of Love, whose locks were white as snow. 

The immortal infant heaved a sigh, 
As if he knew such love must die. 

That ceased : then shrieks and soimds of laughter, 
That seemed to shake both roof and rafter. 
Floated from where Eark Alloway 
HaK buried in the darkness lay. 

A mingled look of fim and fear 
Did on the infant's face appear. 

There was a hush : and then uprose 
A strain, which had a holy close. 
Such as with Cotter's psalm is blended 
After the hard week's labour's ended. 
And dawning brings the halloM'ed day. 

In sleep the infant seemed to pray. 

Then there was heard a martial tread. 
As if some new-born Wallace led 
Scotland's armed sons in Freedom's cause. 

Stern looked the infant in repose. 

The clang of warriors died away. 
And then ' a star with lessening ray ' 
Above the clay-built cottage stood ; 
While Ayr poured from its rolling flood 
A sad heart-rending melody. 
Such as Love chants to Memory, 
When of departed joys he sings. 
Of ' golden hours on angel wings ' 
Departed, to return no more. 

Pity's soft tears fell on the floor. 

While Hope spake low, and Love looked pale, 

And Sorrow closer drew her veU. 

Groans seemed to rend the infant's breast, 
Till Coila whispered him to rest ; 
And then, uprising, thus she spake : 
' This child unto myself I take. 





All hail ! my own inspired Bard, 
In me thy native Muse regard ! ' * 
Around the sleeping infant's head 
Bright trails of golden glory spread. 
' A love of right, a scorn of wrong, ' 
She said, ' nnto him shall belong ; 
A pitying eye for gentle woman, 
Kno-\\-ing "to stop aside is human ;" 
While love in his great heart shall bo 
A li-viug spring of poetry. 
Failings he shall have, such as all 
Were "doomed to have at Adam's fall ; 
But there shall spring above each vice 
Some golden tlower of Paradise, 
Which shall, witli its immortal glow, 
Half hide the weeds that spread below ; 
So much of good, so little guile. 
As shall make angels weep and smile, 
To think how like him they might be 
If clothed in frail humanity; 
His mirth so close allied to tears. 
That when grief saddens or joy cheers. 
Like shower and shine in April weather. 
The tears and smiles shall meet together. 
A child-like heart, a god-like mind, 
Simplicity round Genius twined : 
So much like other men appear. 
That, when he 's run his wild career. 
The world shall look with wide amaze. 
To see what lines of glory blaze 
Over the chequered course he passed — 
Glories that shall for ever last. 

Of Highland hut and Lowland home. 
His songs shall float across the foam. 
Where Scotland's music ne'er before 
Bang o'er the far-off ocean shore. 
To shut of eve from early morn, 
They shall be carolled mid the corn. 
While maidens hang their heads aside. 
Of Hope that lived, and Love that died ; 
And huntsmen on the mountains steep, 
And herdsmen in the valleys deeji. 
And virgins spinning by the fire. 
Shall catch some fragment of his lyre. 
And the whole land shall all year long 
Eiug back the echoes of his song. 
The world shall in its choice records 
Store up his common acts and words, 
To be through future ages sjiread ; 
And how he looked, and what he said, 
ShaU in wild wonderment be read, 
When coming centuries are dead.' 

' " And wear thou this," ' she solemn said, 
' And bound the holly round ' his ' head ; 
The polished leaves, and berries red, 

Did nistling play ; 
And, like a passing thought, she fled 
In light away. ' f 

It is amusing to learn that Burns, when just 
emerging from obscurity, jocularly anticipated 
that his birthday would come to be noted among 
other remarkable events. In a letter to his early 
patron, Gavin Hamilton, in 1786, he says : ' For 
my own affairs, I am in a fair way of becoming 
as eminent as Thomas a Kempis, or John Bun- 
yan ; and you may expect henceforth to see my 
birthday inscribed among the wonderful events, 
in the Poor Eobin and Aberdeen Almanacks, 
along with the Black Monday and the Battle of 

^ 'The Vision,' by Burns, 

t Ibid., last verse. 

It is an affecting circumstance that Burns, 
dying in poverty, and unable to remunerate 
his medical attendant in the usual manner, 
asked the doctor's acceptance of his pair of 
pistols as a memorial of their friendship. Dr 
Maxwell, who proved a generous friend to 
the poor bard's surviving widow and children, re- 
tained these weapons till his death in 1834, after 
which they were preserved for some years by his 
sister. On her death, they were presented 
to the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, in 
whose museum in Edinburgh they are now kept 
in an elegant coffer, but open to the inspection of 
the public* 


25th Januarj^ 1327, is the date of the deposi- 
tion of the silly king, Edward II., whose reign 
of twenty years had been little else than one 
continual wrangle regarding the worthless royal 
favourites, Gaveston and Despencer. Edward is 
remarkable in one respect, that, weak and pusil- 
lanimous himself, he was the son of one and 
father of another of the most vigorous of English 
monarchs. Wisdom, dignity, and every manly 
quality had fairly leaped over this hapless gene- 

There is an authentic manuscript which gives 
an account of the expenses of Edward II. during 
a part of his reign ; and it contains striking 
evidence of his puerile character. There are 
repeated entries of small sums, disbursed to 
make good the losses which the king incurred in 
playing at o'oss and file, which is neither more 
nor less than the pitch and toss of modern school- 
boys. He played at this game with the usher of 
his chamber, and he would borrow from his 
barber the money wherewith to play. He did 
not disdain to travel on the Thames, in a re- 
turned barge which had brought fagots to his 
court. There is a sum entered, as paid by the 
king's own hands, to James of St Albans, who 
had danced before his highness upon a table, and 
made him laugh heartily ; and another was con- 
ferred on Morris Ken of the Kitchen, who, in a 
hunt at "Windsor, made the king laugh heartily 
by frequently timibling off his horse.f An 
elaborate history of the reign could not make us 
better appreciate the misfortune of the English 
people in being for twenty years under such a 


On St Paul's day, 1502-3, there took place a 
marriage in the royal family of England, which 
has been attended with most important conse- 
quences to the welfare of the entire island. The 

* At a sale of Dr Maxwell's effects in Dumfries, 
several pairs of pistols of an ordinary make were disposed 
of — for the Doctor had been a weapon -fancier to some 
extent — and t\Yo of these sets have since been severally 
set forth as Burns's pistols. One of them, which had 
been bought for the sum of fifteen and sixpence, fell into 
the hands of a modern bard, and was enshrined by him in 
an elegant case. See a curious paper on Burns's Pistols, 
by the Right Rev. Bishop Gillis, of Edinburgh, 1859. 

t Antiquarian Repertory, 4 vols. 4to, vol. ii. p. 406. 




Princess Margaret, eldest daughter of Henry 
VII., was then united at the manor of K-ichmond 
to King James IV. of Scotland, as represented 
by his proxy, Patrick Earl of Bothwell. It was 
foreseen by the English king that this union 
might lead to that of the two kingdoms, which 
had so long been at enmity with each other ; 
and when some of his council objected, that in 
this event England would become a province of 
Scotland, he shewed his deeper wisdom by re- 
marking that it never could be so, as the smaller 
would ever follow the larger kingdom. 

The young Queen of Scots was at this time 
only thirteen years and a quarter old ; neverthe- 
less, a learned Scotsman, Walter Ogilvy, who 
was present at the marriage, describes her as if 
she had already acquired all the graces, mental as 
well as bodily, of mature womanhood. She was 
' decens, urbana, sagax.' Beauty and modesty 
were united in her. She was of tall stature, had 
lively eyes, smooth arms, beautiful hands, golden 
hair, and a tongue enriched with various lan- 
guages. Her complexion united the beauty of 
both the roses of her father and mother. Whether 
she walked or lay, stood or sat, or spoke, a grace 
attended her. 


January 25, 1791, died the celebrated wit, 
George Selwyn, in the seventy-second year of 
his age. 

The Earl of Carlisle, writing to George Selwyn 
from Trentham, Sept. 20, 1774, teUs him that a 
man is about to be tried at the assizes in Car- 
lisle for murder. His lordship adds, 'If you 
should happen to be with us at the time of the 
assizes, I will take care to get you a good place 
at the execution ; and though our Tyburn may 
not have all the charms which that has where 
you was brought up and educated, yet it may be 
better than no Tyburn.' 

Lord Carlisle here alludes to the singular taste 
of George Selwyn for attending executions, in 
order to watch the conduct of the criminal under 
his extraordinary circumstances ; a propensity 
the more remarkable in him, that he was a man 
of the greatest benevolence and tenderness of 
nature, and the undisputed prince of the men of 
wit and humour of his day. It was perhaps to 
gratify the very benevolence of his nature, by 
giving it a hearty sensation, that he was so fond 
of looking upon the sufferings of evil-doers. 

His friend Horace Walpole, writing in 1750, 
speaks of him as one ' whose passion it was to 
sec coffins, corpses, and executions.' Walpole 
having spoken of one Arthur More, recently 
deceased, George instantly remarked the curious 
fact that More had had his coffin chained to that 
of his mistress. ' How do you know ?' inquired 
Walpole in some surprise. ' Why,' replied Sel- 
wyn, ^ ' I saw them the other day in a vault at St 
Giles's.' ' He was walking this week,' says 
Walpole, 'in Westminster Abbey, with Lord 
Abergavenny, and met the man who shews the 
tombs. " Oh, your servant, Mr Selwyn ; I ex- 
pected to have seen you here the other day, when 
the old Duke of Eichmond's body was taken up." ' 
George had probably been out of town when the 
event happened, 

The trial of the unfortunate rebel lords, in 
1746, proved a rich treat for Selwyn. He at- 
tended most assiduously, and went fully into the 
spirit of the scene. Observing a Mrs. Bethel, 
who had what is called a hatchet face, he saidi 
' What a shame of her to turn her face to the 
prisoners before they are condemned ! ' Going 
to get a tooth extracted, he told the dentist he 
would drop his handkerchief for the signal. 
Some ladies rallied him about his want of feeling 
in having gone to see Lord Lovat's head cut off; 
' Why,' said he, ' I made amends by going to the 
undertaker's to see it sewn on again.' And such 
was really the fact. He attended this last cere- 
mony with an appearance of great solemnity, 
concluding the affair by calling out in the manner 
of the Lord Chancellor at the trial, ' My Lord 
Lovat, your lordship may rise ! ' 

Henry, first Lord Holland, who, with all his 
faults as a statesman, possessed both wit and 
good nature, touched off the ruling passion of 
George Selwyn in the neatest manner when on 
his death-bed. Being informed that George had 
been inquiring for him, he said to his servant, 
\ The next time Mr Selwyn calls, show him up : 
if I am alive, I shall be delighted to see him; and 
if I am dead, he will be glad to see me.' 

The story has been often told of George 
Selwyn, that he went to Paris, in 1756, on pur- 
pose to see the execution of Damien, for his 
attempt to assassinate Louis XV. ' On the day 
of the execution, he mingled with the crowd, in a 
plain undress and bob-wig; when a French noble- 
man, observing the deep interest he took in the 
scene, and imagining, from the plainness of his 
attire, that he must be a person in the humbler 
ranks of life, chose to imagine that he must 
infallibly be a hangman. " Eh, bien, monsieur," 
he said, " etes-vous arrive pour voir ce spectacle ? " 
— "Oui, monsieur." — "Vous etes bourreau?" — 
''Non, non, monsieur ; je n'ai pas cette honneur ; 
je ne suis qu'un amateur." '* 


On this day, in 1821, there were read before 
the Society of Antiquaries, some notes by Mr 
John Adey Eepton, on the custom which pre- 
vailed in the seventeenth century of erecting two 
ornamental posts beside the gates of chief magis- 
trates. Of the examples presented by Mr Ilepton, 
one may be here copied, being the posts erected 
beside the door of Thomas Pettys, Mayor of 
Norwich in 1592. This feature of old municipal 
usage is often alluded to by the contemporary dra- 
matists. Thus, in Lingua, or a Combat of the Tongue 
and the Jive Senses for Siijoerioritj/ : a Pleasant 
Comedie, 1607, 4to, occurs the following passage : 

' Communis Sensus. — Crave my counsel, tell me 
what manner of man is he ? Can he entertain a 
man into his house ? Can he hold his velvet cap 
in one hand, and vail his bonnet with the other ? 
Knows he how to become a scarlet gown ? Hath 
he a pair of fresh posts at his door / 

' Phantastes. — He's about some hasty state 
matters ; he talks of posts, methinks. 

' Com. S. — Can he part a couple of dogs brawling 
in the street ? Why, then, chuse him Mayor, &c/ 

* Jesse's Memoirs of George Selwyn, i. 11. 



In Boaiimont ami Fletcher's play of The Widow, 
is the follow iui:; passage : 

' I'll love your door the better ^vhilo I know it. 

' TI7(/oic.— A pair of siu-h brothers were fitter 
for posts without door, indeed io make a show at 
a tiew-choseii majiist rates gate, than to be used in 
a woman's chamber.' 

1 \ 

U^' 1 




i li ; 1 , ■■■ 1 

1 j 





i ' ' '! ■ j ■' ■ " ■ 



j ! 

!"> ', 




Similar posts were erected at the sheriff's gate, 
and used for the display of proclamations. In 
Eowley's play of A Woman Never Vexed, 1632, a 
character says : 

' If e'er I live to see thee sheriff of London, 
I'll fjild thy posts.^ 

A trace of this old custom is still to be found 
in Edinburgh, where it is a rule that a pair of 
gilded lamp-posts are always erected before the 
&oor of the Lord Provost. 


{Ordered in January, 1604.) 

The month of January is memorable as that of 
the celebrated Hampton Court Conference, held 
at the beginning of the reign of James I. in 
England (160-1), for the regulation of questions 
of religion, agitated by the violent opposition 
between the High Church party and the Puri- 
tans. Among other grievances brought forward 
on this occasion was the unsatisfactory state of 
the translations of the Bible then existing ; and 
one of the most important and lasting results 
was the formation of the Authorized translation 
of the Scriptures which still remains in use in 
this country, and which was ordered by King 
James soon after the Conference separated. The 

history of the English versions of the Bible is a 
suliject of interest to everybody. 

There was no principle or doctrine in the 
Eoman Catholic religion opposed to the transla- 
tion of the Holy Scriptures. In fact, the Latin 
text of the Bible used by the Catholics, and 
known as the Vulgate, was itself only a transla- 
tion ; and it was translated into the languages of 
various countries without reluctance or hesitation. 
Among the Anglo-Saxons, Aldhelm is said to 
have translated the Psalms as early as the 
seventh century ; and an Anglo-Saxon transla- 
tion of the Psalms, partly in prose and partly in 
verse, is still preserved in the Impei'ial Library 
in Paris, and was printed at Oxford in 1835, 
under the editorial care of Mr Benjamin Thorpe. 
The Anglo-Saxon translation of the Gospels, 
which has been ascribed to the ninth century, 
has also been printed ; and a distinguished 
Anglo-Saxon ecclesiastic, Alfric, towards the 
close of the tenth century, translated into Anglo- 
Saxon a great part of the Old Testament, which 
is still preserved in manuscript. The whole of 
the Scriptures are supposed to have been trans- 
lated into Anglo-Norman, but detached portions 
only are preserved. An English harmony of the 
Gospels was compiled in verse in the beginning 
of the thirteenth century, by a man named Orm, 
who gave to it the title of Ormulum, after his 
own name. Several versions of the Psalms were 
also written in early English, but the first 
translation of the entire Bible into English was 
that which was completed in the course of the 
latter half of the fourteenth century, and which 
is known as WyclifFe's Bible, as being the work 
either of that reformer himself, or at least of 
his followers. There are two texts of this 
English version, differing considerably from each 
other — which are printed side by side in the 
edition in 3 vols. 4to edited by Forshall and 
Madden — and it must have been circulated very 
widely, from the great number of manuscript 
copies still in existence. 

Though the media3val churchmen did not object 
to the Scriptures being translated, they had a 
strong- objection to the communication of them 
to the vulgar. In this respect the publication of 
translations of the Bible before and after the 
invention of printing, presented totally different 
questions. A manviscript book was very expen- 
sive, could be multiplied but slowly, and could 
only be possessed by the wealthy. The transla- 
tions, therefore, to which we have alluded, were 
mostly, no doubt, made for ecclesiastics them- 
selves, for abbesses and nuns, or for pious ladies 
of rank. But the WyclifHtes openly professed 
that their object in translating the Scriptures 
was to communicate them to the people, and, 
even to the lowest orders, by reading them, and 
causing them to be read, in the vernacular tongue. 
The whole mass of the Romish clergy who were 
opposed to reform took the alarm, horrified at 
the idea of imparting religious knowledge to the 
people, whom they wished to keep in a con- 
dition of blind subjection to themselves, with 
which such knowledge was quite incompatible. 
The first attempt to proscribe the Wycliffite 
translation was made in parliament in 1390, and 
was defeated bv the influence of the Duke of 




Lancaster, Jolin of Gauut. But in 1408, tlie 
clergy, under Arclibisliop Arundel, succeeded in 
their object : WyclifTe's and every other transla- 
tion of the Scriptures into English ■vrerc pro- 
hibited by an act of Convocation ; and all who 
were known or suspected to read them were 
subjected to bitter persecution, which con- 
tinued without intermission until the reign of 
Henry Vlll. 

The English Eeformers were quick at taking 
advantage of the new art of printing, and they 
soon entered into communication with their 
brethren on the Continent, where only they 
could find a free press. In the year 1526, an 
English translation of the New Testament was 
printed, it is said, at Antwerp, and copies were 
surreptitiously passed into England. This trans- 
lation, which is said to have been made direct 
from the Greek original, was the work of William 
Tyndal, a canon of the then new foundation of 
Christ Church, Oxford, who had been obliged to 
leave his native country on account of his re- 
ligious opinions, assisted by John Fry, or Fryth, 
and William Eoy, who were both put to death as 
heretics. It was the first printed translation of 
any part of the Scriptures in English. The 
chiefs of the Catholic party in England seem to 
have been much embarrassed with this book, and 

the}^ attempted to meet the difficulty by buying 
up all the copies and burning them; and thus 
created an artificial sale, which enabled Tyndal 
to bring out another and more correct edition. 
It was not till 1530, that Sir Thomas More, as 
Lord Chancellor, with the high ecclesiastics, 
issued a declaration against all English transla- 
tions of the Scriptures ; and that same year 
Tyndal printed his translation of the Pentateuch 
at Hamburg. He had now undertaken, with the 
assistance of another learned English Reformer, 
Miles Coverdale, a translation of the whole 
Bible ; but in the middle of his labours he was 
suddenly arrested and thrown into prison by 
order of the Emperor, and his opinions were 
punished with death in 1536, the year of the first 
act for the dissolution of the English monasteries. 
In the previous year, the great work on which he 
had laboured Avith so much zeal had been com- 
pleted. Miles Coverdale, who had been his 
assistant from the commencement, had continued 
the work alone after Tyndal's imprisonment; 
and this first English Bible was published in 
1535, in a huge folio volume, believed from the 
character of the types to have been printed at 
Zurich, under the sole name of Coverdale. It 
was dedicated to King Henry VIII. of England. 
By this time the Eeformation had made such 


(Being a portion of the Engraved Title of ' C7-anmer's Bible.') 

advances in England, that the King himself was 
induced to allow the Bible to he circulated in the 
language of the people ; and early in the year 
1536 the English clergy were enjoined by royal 
authority to place a Latin Bible and an English 
Bible in the choir of every chui'ch, where it could 
be freely read by the people. The number of 
copies of Coverdale's Bible was insufficient to 
supply such a demand ; and a new English Bible 
was now ordered to be printed under the direc- 
tion of Cranmer, on whieli it is believed that 
Coverdale was the chief person employed. Leave 
was obtained from the King of France to print I 
this Bible in Paris, where the typographic art i 

was then carried to the greatest perfection, and 
the care of the printing was entrusted to Pichard 
Grafton and Edward Whitchurch ; but they 
were interrupted by the interference of the 
French clergy, who seized and burnt nearly the 
whole impression, and Grafton and Whitchurch 
were obliged to withdraw to London, where the 
printing was completed in the spring of 1539. 
This book was sometimes called Cranmer's 
Bible, and sometimes spoken of as the ' Great 
Bible.' It was to it that reference was made in 
the royal proclamation of the following year, 
which enjoined the curates and parishioners of 
every parish to provide tlicmselves with the 



33iblo of the lari^est size, nndor a penalty of forty 
sluUin'--s a month as long as they remained with- 
out it: At the hitter end of Henry's reign, in 
consequence of a change in the religious policy ot 
the Court, a check was again put on the tree 
reading of the Scriptures, which was of course 
removed on the accession of J'^dward A I. 

The persecutions of Queen Mary s reign drove 
the English lieformers into exile, when a number 
of the more zealous of them assembled at Geneva, 
and, while there, employed themselves upon a 
new translation of the Scriptures, with annota- 
tions, to which was given a strong Calvinistic 
colouring, and which contained political notions 
of a democratic character. The New Testament 
was first published, and was completed in 1557 : 
the Old Testament followed in 1560. This is gene- 
rally known as the Geneva Eible, and. was in 
favour among the Puritan party and in Scotland. 
Elizabeth, at the beginning of her reign, deter- 
mined to have an English translation of the 
13ible more in accordance with her views in 
religious matters; and she entrusted the direction 
of i't to Archbishop Parker, who distributed the 
work among a certain number of learned men. 

It was published in 1568, and, from the circum- 
stance that there was a considerable number of 
bishops among the translators, it is often spoken 
of as the Bishops' Bible. 

Such was the state of things at the time of the 
Hampton Court Conference. There were at least 
four different English translations of the Bible, 
which had gone through numerous editions, 
differing very much from each other, not only 
verbally, but very often in the interpreta- 
tion of "Holy Writ, and not one of which had any 
absolute authority over the other. Moreover, 
most of these older translations, in the Old 
Testament at least, had been made in a great 
measure from the Latin vulgate, the old Romanist 
version. It cannot be denied that one authorized 
and correct version of the Bible was greatly 
Avanted, and this seems to have been allowed by 
all parties. It appears, however, that the pro- 
posal originated with the Puritans, and that it 
was their speaker in the Conference, Dr. Reynolds, 
who brought the subject before the King. James 
had no partiality for any of the translations which 
then existed; he is understood to have disliked 
the Geneva Bible, partly on account of its rather 


low tone on his favourite ' kingcraft ;' it was a 
flattering idea that his reign in England should 
be inaugurated by a translation of the Scrip- 
tures from the original Hebrew. He, accord- 
ingly, embraced the proposal with eagerness, 

and drew up with his own pen the rules for 
translating. In the course of the year 1604, 
James appointed a Commission of learned men 
selected from the two Universities and from 
Westminster, consisting at first of fifty-four 




individuals, but reduced subsequently to forty- 
seven. To each of these a portion of the Scrip- 
tures was given to translate. They began their 
labours in the spring of 1007, and completed 
them in three years ; and tlien a select com- 
mittee was appointed, consisting of two from 
each University, and two from Westminster, who 
met at Stationers' Hall, iu London, to correct 
the work of the rest. The Bishop of Winches- 
ter (Bilsou) and Dr. Myles Smith finally revised 
the whole, and prefixed the arguments to the 
several books. It is supposed that Bancroft, 
Bishop of London, had the chief direction of the 
whole work. 

Thus was formed the Authorized Version of the 
Scriptures, which was published iu 1611, and has 
ever since been the only English translation 
acknowledged by the Anglican Church. For 
the time at which it was written, it is truly a 
very wonderful work ; but still it is acknowledged 
by modern scholars to be far from perfect. 
During the two centuries and a half since the 
time of James I., Ilebrew philology and the 
knowledge of biblical antiquities have made 
great advance ; and there can be no doubt that 
the Authorized translation of the Bible contains 
many errors and many mistranslations, which it 
would be very desirable to see corrected. Many 
men of great learning have therefore, from time 
to time, asked for a new translation, or at least a 
revision of the present Authorized Version. But 
others, while acknowledging its imperfections, 
hold that they are none of them of a character 
to interfere with the utility of the present version 
among the mass of the people, and they shrink 
from the prospect of disturbing their religious 
convictions and feelings, with which this version 
has been so long and so closely interwoven. 

A copy of the Authorized Version was, as 
before, placed in each parish church, that it 
might be accessible to all; and, usually, after 
the fashion of the old libraries, it was chained to 
the place. A sketch of such a Bible, yet surviv- 
ing in Cumnor Church, Leicestershire, is given in 
the preceding page. 


St Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna, 166. St Paula, 
widow, 404. Sf, Conon, bishop of Man, about 648. 


Polycarpus is the earliest of the Christian 
fathers. An unusual and peculiar interest at- 
taches to him, as one M'ho might have known, if 
he did not actually know, the evangelist John. 
At Smyrna, of which he was bishop, Polycarp 
suffered martyrdom by burning, in 167. Of his 
\yritings there remains but an epistle to the Phi- 
lippians, exhorting them to maintain the purity of 
the faith. 


Conon is a Scotch saint of the seventh century. 
He was for some years Bishop of Man or of tlie 
Southern Isles, and his name continued to be 
remembered with veneration in the Highlands 

till the Iveformation. ' Claw for claw,' as Conon 
said to Satan, 'and the devil take the shortest 
nails,' is a proverb of the Highlanders, appa- 
rently referring to some legend of an encounter 
between the holy man and the great sjiiritual 
enemy of our race. 

Bom.—Lord George Sackville, 1710; J. B. Berna- 
dotte, king of Sweden, 1764, Fan; Thomas Noon Tal- 
fourd, 1795. 

Aed— Henry Brigges, 1630, Oxford; Dr E. Jenner, 
1823, Berkeley; Francis Jeffrey, 1850, Edinburffk ; Adam 
Gottlob Ochlenschlilger, Danish poet, 1850. 


The first recognised editor of the Udinhurcjk 
Review was a man of small and slight figure, and 
of handsome countenance ; of fine conversational 
powers, and, what will surprise those who think 
of him only as the uncompromising critic, great 
goodness of heart and domestic amiability. In 
his latter years, when past the psalmist-appointed 
term of life, he grew more than ever tender of 
heart and amiable, praised nursery songs, patron- 
ised mediocrities, and wrote letters of almost 
childish gentleness of expression. It seemed to 
be the natural strain of his character let loose 
from some stern responsibility, which had made 
him sharp and critical through all his former 

His critical writings had a brilliant reputation 
In their day. He was too much a votary of the 
regular old rhetorical style of poetry to be capable 
of truly appreciating the Lake school, or almost 
any others of his own contemporaries. The 
greatest mistake he made was as to Wordsworth, 
whose Excursion he saluted [Edinhiirgh Review, 
November 1814) with an article beginning, ' This 
will never do ; ' a free and easy condemnation 
which, now contrasted with the reputation of 
Wordsworth, returns a fearful revenge upon the 

Jeffrey, however, is not withoiit his companions 
in this kind of misfortune. Home, the author of 
Douglas, could not see the merit of Burns ; and 
Hitsou, while appreciating him as a poet generally, 
deemed his songs a failure. ' He does not,' says 
the savage Joseph, ' appear to his usual advantage 
in song: Tion omnia fossumus.^ 

It would be a curious task, and something like 
a fair revenge upon the sanguinary brotherhood 
of Critics, to run over their works, and select the 
unhappy cases in which, from prejudice or want 
of natural penetration, they have passed judg- 
ments and made prophecies which now appear 
ludicrously inappropriate. Some unlucky pro- 
nouncements by unprofessional hands may mean- 
while be noted. 

It was Waller who wrote of Paradise Lost on 
its first appearance : ' The old blind schoolmaster, 
John Milton, hath published a tedious poem on 
the fall of man ; if its length be not considered a 
merit, it has no other.' 

Walpole, led by political prejudice, on several 
occasions wrote disparagingly of SmoUett. Sum- 
j)lir}l Clinl-cr, which has ever been a favourite 
witii the British public, is passed over ignomi- 
niously by the lord of Strawberry Hill, as 'a party 
novel written by the profligate hireling Smollett.' 





We llud a tolerably fair oftset to tlie sliort- 
coiuius^s of AVhiij Ecviow criticism, m the way 
in Avhich the poetry of lluut, Shelley, and 
Keats was treated in the early voluuies of the 
Qiiarferh/. In the noted article on the Endymion 
of Keats' (April 1818), which Byron speaks of in 
his couplet — 

' 'Tis strange the mind, that very fiery particle, 
Slioiild let itself be snuffed out by an article'— 

(which, however, was a mistake), the critic pro- 
fesses to have been utterly unable to read the 
poem, and adds : ' The author is a copyist of Mr 
Ilunt . . . more uuintelligible, almost as rugg-ed, 
twice as diffuse, and ten times more tiresome and 
absurd than his prototype.' 


Died on the 26th January 1855, the Eight 
Eev. David Low, Bishop of Eoss and Argyll, in 
the episcopal communion of Scotland. The prin- 
cipal reason for noticing this prelate is the fact 
that he was the last surviving clergyman in 
Scotland, who had, in his official character, acted 
upon scruples in behalf of the house of Stuart. 
At the time of the excellent bishop's entrance to 
the Church, in 1787— when he was ordained a 
deacon— the body to which he belonged omitted 
the prayer for the king and royal familj-- from 
their service, being \inostentatiously but firmly 
attached to the fortunes of the family which 
forfeited the British crown nearly a hundred 
years before ; and it was not till after the death 
of the xmfortuuate Charles Edward, in January 
1788, that they at length (not without some diffi- 
culty) agreed to pray for King George. 

An obituary notice of Bishop Low speaks of 
him as follows : ' His appearance was striking — 
tall, attenuated, but active — his eye sparkling 
with intelligence, his whole look that of a vene- 
rable French ahhe of the old regime. His mind was 
eminently buoyant and youthful, and his memory 
was a fount of the most interesting historical 
information, especially in connection with the 
Cavalier or Jacobite party, to which he belonged 
by early association and strong religious and 
political predilection. Born in a district (at that 
lime) devoted to the cause of the Stuarts, almost 
under the shadow of Edzell Castle, the ancient 
stronghold of the Lindsays in Forfarshire, and 
having lived much from time to time in his early 
years in the West Highlands, among the Stuarts 
of Ballachulish andAppin, he had enjoyed familiar 
intercourse with the veterans of 1715 and 1745, 
and he detailed the minutest events and adven- 
tures of those times with a freshness and a 
graphic force which afforded infinite delight to 
his younger auditors. His traditional knowledge 
extended even to the wars of Claverhouse and 

Those who know of bishops and their style of 
living only from the examples afforded by the 
English Protestant Church, will hear with sui-- 
prise and incredulity of what we have to tell 
regarding Bishop Low. This venerable man, 
who had never been married, dwelt in a room of 
the old priory of Pittenweem, on the coast of 
Fife, where he ministered to a congregation for 
which a good dining-room would have furnished 

tolerably ample accommodation. He probably 
never had an income above a hundred a year in 
his life ; yet of even this he spent so little, that 
he was able at the last to bequeath about eight 
thousand pounds for purposes connected with his 
communion. A salt herring and three or four 
potatoes often formed the home dinner of the 
Bishop of Eoss and Argyll. 

Even in Scotland, chiefly from the introduc- 
tion of English clergymen of fortune into the 
episcopate, a bishop is beginning to be, typically, 
a tolerably well-off and comfortable-looking 
personage. It therefore becomes curious to re- 
call what he, typically, was not many years ago. 
The writer has a perfect recollection of a visit 
he paid, in the year 1826, to the venerable Dr 
Jolly, Bishop of Moray, who was esteemed as a 
man of learning, as well as a most devoted officer 
of his church. He found the amiable prelate 
living at the fishing town of Fraserburgh, at the 
north-east corner of Aberdeenshire, where he 
officiated to a small congregation. The bishop, 
having had a little time to prepare himself for a 
visitor, was, by the time the writer made his call, 
dressed in his best suit and his Sunday wig. In 
a plain two-story house, such as is common in 
Scotch towns, having a narrow wooden stair 
ascending to the upper floor, which was composed 
of two eoomceiled apartments, a but and a hen, 
and in one of these rooms, the beautiful old 
man — for he ^vas beautiful — sat, in his neat old- 
fashioned black suit, buckled shoes, and wig as 
white as snow, surrounded entirely by shelves 
full of books, most of them of an antique and theo- 
logical cast. Irenfcus or Polycarp could not 
have lived in a style more simple. The look of 
the venerable prelate was fuU of gentleness, as if 
he had never had an enemy, or a difficulty, or 
anything else to contend with, in his life. His 
voice was low and sweet, and his conversation 
most genial and kindly, as towards the young 
and unimportant person whom he had admitted 
to his presence. The whole scene was a his- 
torical picture which the writer can never forget, 
or ever reflect on without pleasure. Bishop 
Jolly lived in a style nearly as primitive as 
IBishop Low ; but the savings which consequently 
arose from his scanty income were devoted in 
a different way. His passion apart from the 
church was for'books, of which he had gathered 
a wonderful quantity, including many that were 
of considerable value for their rarity. 

The series of non-jurant English bishops, which 
began with those who refused to acknowledge 
William and Mary, including Sancroft, Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury, came to an end with the 
Eev. Mr Gordon, who died on the 19th of No- 
vember 1779. There was, however, a succession 
of separatists, beginning with one bishop, and 
which did not terminate till 1805.* 

There has been a strong favoiir for the nimiber 
Seven, from a remote period in the world's his- 
tory. It is, of course, easy to see in what way 
the Mosaic narrative gave sanctity to this number 
in connection with the days of the week, and led 
* Notes and Queries, 2nd ser., xi. 273. 




to usapjes wliicli influence the social life of all the 
countries of Europe. But a sort of mystical 
goodness or power has attached itself to the 
number in many other ways. Seven wise men, 
seven champions of Christendom, seven sleepers, 
seven-league boots, seven churches, seven ages 
of man, seven hills, seven senses, seven planets, 
seven metals, seven sisters, seven stars, seven 
wonders of the world, — all have had their day 
of favour ; albeit that the number has been 
awkwardly interfered with by modern discoveries 
concerning metals, planets, stars, and wonders of 
the world. 

Added to the above list is the group of Seven 
Sons, especially in relation to the youngest or 
seventh of the seven ; and more especially still 
if this person happen to be the seventh son of 
a seventh son. It is now, perhaps, impossible to 
discover in what country, or at what time, the 
notion originated ; but a notion there certainly 
is, chiefly in provincial districts, that a seventh 
son has something peculiar about him. For the 
most pai*t, the imputed peculiarity is a healing 
power, a faculty of curing diseases by the touch, 
or by some other means. 

The instances of this belief are numerous 
enough. There is a rare pamphlet called the 
Quack Doctor's Speech, published in the time 
of Charles II. The reckless Earl of Rochester 
delivered this speech on one occasion, when 
dressed in character, and mounted on a stage as 
a charlatan. The speech, amid much that suited 
that licentious age, but would be frowned down 
by modern society, contained an enumeration of 
the doctor's wonderful qualities, among which 
was that of being a ' seventh son of a seventh 
son,' and therefore clever as a curer of bodily 
ills. The matter is only mentioned as affording 
a sort of proof of the existence of a certain 
popular belief. In Cornwall, the peasants and the 
miners entertain this notion ; they believe that a 
seventh son can cure the king's evil by the touch. 
The mode of proceeding usually is to stroke the 
part affected thrice gently, to blow upon it thrice, 
to repeat a form of words, and to give a perforated 
coin or some other object to be worn as an amulet. 
At Bristol, about forty years ago, there was a 
man who was always called ' Doctor,' simply 
because he was the seventh son of a seventh son. 
The family of the Joneses of Muddfi, in Wales, 
is said to have presented seven sons to each of 
many successive generations, of whom the seventh 
son always became a doctor — apparently from a 
conviction that he had an inherited qualification 
to start with. In Ireland, the seventh son of a 
seventh son is believed to possess prophetical as 
weU as healing power. A few years ago, a Dublin 
shopkeeper, finding his errand-boy to be generally 
very dilatory in his duties, inquired into the 
cause, and found that, the boy being a seventh 
son of a seventh son, his sei'vices were often in 
retiuisition among the poorer neighbours, in a way 
tliat brought in a good many pieces of silver. 
Early in the present century, there was a man in 
Hampshire, the seventh son of a seventh son, who 
was consulted by the villagers as a doctor, and 
who carried about with him a collection of 
crutches and sticks, purporting to have once 
belonged to persons whom he had cured of lame- 

ness. Cases are not wanting, also, in which the 
seventh daughter is placed upon a similar pin- 
nacle of greatness. In Scotland, the spae wife, or 
fortune-teller, frequently announces herself as 
the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, to 
enhance her claims to prophetic power. Even so 
late as 1851, an inscription was seen on a window 
in Plymouth, denoting that a certain doctress was 
' the third seventh daughter,' — which the world 
was probably intended to interpret as the seventh 
daughter of the seventh daughter of a seventh 

Sometimes this belief is mixed up with curious 
family legends. The Winchester Observer, a few 
years ago, gave an account of the ' Tichborne 
Dole,' associated with one of the very oldest 
Hampshire families. The legend tells that, at 
some remote period, a Lady Mabella, on her 
death-bed, besought her lord, the Tichborne of 
those days, to supply her with the means for 
bequeathing a gift or dole of bread to any one 
who should apply for it annually on the Feast of 
the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin. Sir 
Roger promised her the proceeds of as much 
land as she could go over while a brand or billet 
of a certain size was burning : she was nearly 
bedridden, and nearly dying ; and her avaricious 
lord believed that he had imposed conditions 
which would place within very narrow limits the 
area of land to be alienated. But he was mis- 
taken. A miraculous degree of strength was given 
to her. She was carried by her attendants into 
a field, where she crawled round many goodly 
acres. A field of twenty-three acres, at Tich- 
borne, to this day, bears the name of the Crawl. 
The lady, just before her death, solemnly warned 
her family against any departure from the terms 
of the dole ; she predicted that the family name 
would become extinct, and the fortunes im- 
poverished, if the dole were ever withdrawn. 
The Tichborne dole, thus established, was re- 
garded as the occasion of an annual festival 
during many generations. It was usual to bake 
fourteen hundred loaves for the dole, of twenty- 
six ounces each, and to give twopence to any 
applicant in excess of the number that could 
be then served. This custom was continued 
till about the middle of the last century ; when, 
under pretence of attending Tichborne Dole, vaga- 
bonds, gipsies, and idlers of every description, 
assembled from all quarters, pilfering tkroughout 
the neighbourhood ; and at last, in 1790, on 
account of the complaints of the magistrates 
and gentry, it was discontinued. This gave great 
offence to many who had been accustomed to 
receive the dole. And now arose a revival of 
old traditions. The good Lady Mabella, as the 
legend told, had predicted that, if the dole should 
be withheld, the mansion would crumble to 
ruins ; that the family name would become ex- 
tinct through the failure of male heirs ; and that 
this failure would be occasioned by a generation 
of seven sons being followed by a generation of 
seven daughters. Singularly enough, the old 
house i^artially fell down in 1803 ; the baronet of 
that day had seven sons ; tlie eldest of these had 
seven daughters ; and the owner of the family 
estates became a Doughty instead of a Tichborne 
If this story be correctly told, it is certainly a 





very tcmptinjx one for those -nlio liave a leaning 
towards the umuber seven. 

Franee. as well as our own country, has a 
belief in the Seventh Son mystery. The Journal 
de Loiirt. a French provincial newspaper, m 1851 
stated that, in Orleans, if a tamily has seven sous 
and no daui^hter. the seventh is called a ATarrou, 
is branded with a Jleiir-de-lis, and is believed to 
possess the power of curing the king's evil. 
The Marcou breathes on tlio part aflected, or 
else the patient touches the Marcou.'sJlcur-Je-lis. 
In the vear above-named, there was a famous 
Marcou " in Orleans named Foulon ; he was a 
cooper by trade, and was known as ' le beau 
Miuvou.' Simple peasants used to come to visit 
him from many leagues in all directions, particu- 
liu'ly in Passion week, when his ministrations 
were believed to be most eOicacious. On the 
night of Good Friday, from midnight to sunrise, 
the chance of cure was supposed to be especially 
good, and on this account four or five hundred 
persons M'ould assemble. Great disturbances 
hence arose ; and as there was evidence, to all 
except the silly dupes themselves, that Foulon 
made use of their superstition to enrich himself, 
the police succeeded, but not without much 
opposition, in preventing these assemblages. 

In some of the States of Germany there used 
formerly to be a custom for the reigning prince 
to stand sponsor to a seventh son (no daughter 
intervening) of any of his subjects. Whether 
still acted upon is doubtful ; but there was an 
incident lately which bore on the old custom in 
a curious way. A West Hartlepool newspaper 
stated that Mr J. V. Curths, a German, residing 
in that busy colliery town, became, toward the 
close of 1857, the father of one of those prodigies 
— a seventh son. Probably he himself was a 
Saxe Gothan by birth ; at any rate he wrote to 
the Prince Consort, reminding him of the old 
German custom, and soliciting the honour of 
his Eoyal Highness's sponsorship to the child. 
The Prince was doubtless a little puzzled by this 
appeal, as he often must have been by the strange 
applications made to him. Nevertheless, a reply 
was sent in the Prince's name, very compli- 
mentarj' to his countryman, and enclosing a 
substantial souvenir for the little child ; but the 
newspaper paragraph is not sufhcieutly clear for 
us to be certain whether the sponsorship really 
was assented to, and, if so, how it was performed. 

Tliree Wonderful Things. — Sir James Stewart, of Colt- 
ness, was accustomed to say, that after ha\'ing lived 
fifty years, and gone through almost all the geographical 
and literary world, three things only had surmounted 
his most sanguine expectations — The Amphitheatre 
at Verona, the Cluirch of St Peter's at Eome, and Mr 
Pitt in the House of Commons. 

Smokinr) Avas fomierly forbidden among school- 
masters. In the rules of the school at Chigwell, 
founded in 1629, it was declared that 'the master must 
be a man of sound rehgion, neither Papist nor Puritan, 
of a grave behaviour, and sober and honest conversa- 
tion, no tippler or haunter of alehouses, and no piiffer 
of tobacco.' 

' To Ike good.'— We find this homely phrase in the 
speech of Charles I. to the House of Commons on ' The 
Arrest of the Five Members,' as follows : 'Whatso- 
ever I have done in favour and to the mod' &c. 


St Julian, bishop, 3id century. St John Chrysostom, 
archbishop, 407. St Marius, abbot, 555. 


St John Chrijsostomus is one of the most cele- 
brated o f the fathers of the Eastern or Greek church. 
He was born about the year 317, at Antioch. His 
father was commander of the Imperial army in 
Syria. He M'as educated for the bar, but became 
a convert to Christianity ; and the solitary manner 
of living being then in great estimation, and very 
prevalent in Syria, he retired to a mountain not 
far from Antioch, where he lived some years in 
solitude, practising the usual austerities. He 
returned to the city in 381, and was ordained by 
Meletius, Bishop of Antioch, to the office of 
deacon, and to that of presbyter in 38(3. He 
became one of the most popular preachers of the 
age ; his reputation extended throughout the 
Christian world ; and in 398, on the death of 
Nectarius, he was elected Bishop of Constanti- 
nople. He was zealous and resolute in the 
reform of clerical abuses, and two years after his 
consecration, on his visitation in Asia Minor, he 
deposed no less than thirteen bishops of Lydia 
and Phrygia. His denunciations of the licentious 
manners of the court drew upon him the resent- 
ment of the Empress Eudoxia, who encouraged 
Theophilus, patriarch of Alexandria, to summon 
a synod at Chalcedon, in which a number of accu- 
sations were brought against Chrysostom. He 
was condemned, deposed, and banished to Cucu- 
sus, a place in the mountain-range of Taurus, 
whence, after the death of the Empress, it was 
determined to remove him to a desert place on 
the Euxine. He travelled on foot, and caught a 
fever, which occasioned his death at Comana, in 
Pontus, September 14, 407, at the age of sixty. 

The works of Chrysostom are very numerous, 
consisting of 700 homilies and 242 epistles, as 
well as commentaries, orations, and treatises on 
points of doctrine. His life has been written by 
Socrates, Sozomen, Theodoret, and other early 
writers, and by Neander in more recent times. 

The name Chrysostomus, or golden-mouthed, on 
account of his eloquence, was not given to him 
till some years after his death. Socrates and the 
other early writers simply call him John, or 
John of Constantinople. 

5o?-B.—Dr Thomas Willis, 1622, Bodmin; J, C. "VV. 
Mozart, 1756. 

ZijeJ.— Sir William Temple, 1699; Thomas Woolston, 
1733, King's Bench Prison; Admiral Lord Hood, 1816; 
Dr C. Hutton, mathematiciaD, 1823; Kev. Dr Andrew 
Bell, originator of the Madras System of Juvenile Educa- 
tion, 1832 ; John James Audubon, naturalist, 1851, New 


Dr Andrew Bell, being a holder of rich livings, 
was able, by the aid of very frugal or rather 
penurious habits, to realise a large fortune, all of 
which he devoted at his death to exemplify and 
perpetuate that system of juvenile education, 
the introduction of which, first in Madras and 
afterwards in England, had given him celebrity, 




but of wliicli, it need scarcely be remarked, the 
merits are now found to have been largely over- 
estimated. It is sad to reflect that, among the 
founders of useful institutions, several, if not 
many, or the greatest number, have been wretched 
egotists, or noted in life rather for the unfa- 
vourable aspect they bore towards their fellow- 
creatures, than for anything of a benevolent or 
genial cast. Thus Guy, the bookseller, whose 
money established the medical hospital bearing 
his name, is alleged to have made it chiefly by 
purchasing seamen's tickets, and a not very credit- 
able success in the affair of the South Sea bubble. 
Of George Watson, founder of an hospital for 
the nurture of boys in Edinburgh, the papers 
preserved in his caliinet shew how penuriously he 
lived, and how rigorous beyond measure he was 
as a creditor. James Donaldson, who left a 
quarter of a million for a similar purpose, over- 
looked in his will all his old servants and 
retainers, and assigned but one or two poor 
annuities to those nearest him in blood. There 
are, of course, many instances in which benevolent 
intentions have solely or mainly ruled ; but, cer- 
tainly, many have been of the opposite complexion 
here indicated. Among such must be reckoned 
Andrew Bell, who left £120,000 Three per Cent. 
Consols, to found an extensive establishment 
for juvenile education in his native city of St 
Andrews. The egotism of this old gentleman, as 
indicated in his ordinaiy conversation, and in his 
leaving a considerable sum for the composition 
and publication of a memoir to glorify him, allow 
no room to doubt that, in the hoarding of money, 
and in the final disposal of what he acquired, he 
had purely an eye to himself. 

Thomas De Quincey tells some things of a 
domestic nature regarding Dr Bell, which, in 
the case of any reasonably respectable man, one 
would not desire to see repeated, but which, re- 
garding him, do not call for being put under any 
restriction. ' Most men,' says the Opium-eater, 
' have their enemies and calumniators ; Dr Bell 
had his, who happened rather indecorouslj'' to be 
his wife, from whom he was legally separated . . . 
divorced a mensd et thoro. This legal separation 
did not prevent the lady from persecuting the 
unhappy doctor with everlasting letters, endorsed 
outside with records of her enmity and spite. 
Sometimes she addressed her epistles thus: " To 
that supreme of rogues, who looks the hang-dog 
that he is, Doctor (such a doctor !) Andrew Bell." 
Or again : " To the ape of apes, and the knave of 
knaves, who is recorded to have once paid a debt — 
but a small one, you may be sure, it was that he 
selected for tliis wonderful ex])eriment — in fact, 
it was 4|d. Had it been on the other side of 6d., 
he must have died before he could have achieved 
so dreadful a sacrifice." Many others, most in- 
geniously varied in the style of abuse, I have heard 
rehearsed by Coleridge, Southey, Lloyd, &c. ; and 
one, in particular, addressed to the doctor, when 
spending a summer at the cottage of llobert 
Newton, an old soldier, in Grasmere, presented 
on the back two separate adjurations, one 
specially addressed to llobert himself, patheti- 
cally urging him to look sharply after the rent 
of his lodgings ; and the other more generally 
addressed to the unfortunate person as yet 

undisclosed to the British public (and in this 
case turning out to be myself), who might be 
incautious enough to pay the postage at Arable- 
side. " Don't grant him an hour's credit," she 
urged upon the person unknown, " if I had any 
regard to my family." "Cash doion !" she wrote 
twice over. Why the doctor submitted to these 
annoyances, nobody knew. Some said it was 
mere indolence ; but others held it to be a 
cunning compromise with her inexorable malice. 
The letters were certainly open to the " public " 
eye ; but meantime the " public " was a very 
narrow one : the clerks in the post-office had 
little time for digesting such amenities of con- 
jugal affection ; and the chance bearer of the 
letters to the doctor would naturally solve the 
mystery by supposing an extra portion of mad- 
ness in the writer, rather than an extra portion 
of knavery in the reverend receiver.' 


On the 27 th January 1639, there was interred 
in Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford, one of the 
most singular men of genius that England has at 
any time produced, — the famous E-obert Burton, 
author of the Anatomy of Melancholi/. Though 
occupying a clerical charge in his native county 
of Leicester, he lived chiefly in his rooms in 
Christ Church College, and thus became a 
subject of notice to Anthony Wood, who, in 
his AthencB Oxonienses, thus speaks of him : 
' He was an exact mathematician, a curious 
calculator of nativities, a general-read scho- 
lar, a thorough - paced philologist, and one 
that understood the surveying of lands well. 
As he was by many accounted a severe stu- 
dent, a devourer of authors, a melancholy and 
humorous person, so, by others who knew 
him well, a person of great honesty, plain- 
dealing, and charity. I have heard some of 
the ancients of Christ Church say, that his com- 
pany was very merry, facete, and juvenile; and 
no man in his time did surpass him for his ready 
and dexterous interlarding his common discourse 
among them with verses from the poets, or sen- 
tences from classical authors, which, being then 
all the fashion in the University, made his com- 
j)any more acceptable.' 

The Anatomy of Melancholy was the only 
work which Burton produced. After the 8th 
edition (1676), the book seems to have fallen into 
neglect, till Dr Johnson's remark, that it was the 
only book that ever took him out of bed two 
hours sooner than he wished to rise, again 
directed attention to it. Dr Ferrier has shewn 
that Sterne was largely indebted to it, and other 
authors have been poachers on the same preserve. 
The work contains a vast number of quotations, 
nearly all Latin, combined with his own reflec- 
tions on the large mass of historical and other 
materials which he has collected. His humour is 
quaint and peculiar. His melancholy resembles 
that of Jacques in As you Like it. The fine 
stanzas prefixed to his book, beginning — 

'When I goe musing all alone,' — 

exhibit the meaning Avhich Burton attaches to 





the word, Avliich seems to bo, not depression of 
sinrits, but rather a habit of rumination, during 
which the feelings are cheerful or sad according 
to the succession of thoughts which pass through 
the iniud. 

These lines are thought to have suggested to 
Milton many ideas in liis II Penseroso : 
'Wlicn I goo musing all alone, 
Tluuking of divers "things fore-known, 
Wlien I would build castles in the air, 
Void of sorrow and void of fear, 
rioasiui:; myself with i>hantasins sweet, 
Mothiiiks the time runs very fleet : 
All my joys to this are folly. 
Nought so sweet as JMelancholy. 
'When I goe walking all alone, 
llecouutuig what I have ill done, 
]My thoughts on me then tyrannise, 
Fear and sorrow me surprise; 
Whether I tarry still or go, 
Metliinks the time moves very slow : 
All my griefs to this are jolly, 
Nought so sad as JMelancholy. 

'When to my selfc I act and smile. 
With pleasing thoughts the time beguile. 
By a brookside or wood so green. 
Unheard, imsought for, or imseen, 
A thousand pleasures doe me bless, 
And crown my soid with happiness. 

All my joyes besides are folly, 

None so sweet as Melancholy. 

'AMien I lie, sit, or walk alone, 
I sigh, I grieve, making great mone. 
In a dark grove, or irksome den, 
With discontents and furies then, 
A thousand miseries at once 
Mine hea\'y heart and soul ensconce. 

All my giiefs to this are jolly, 

None so sour as Melancholy.' 



An edition of the work was published in 1849, 
in 8vo, with notes, in which the quotations are 
translated, explained, and referred to the respec- 
tive works from wliich they have been derived. 

Burton died at or very near the time which he 
had some years before foretold from the calcula- 
tions of his own nativity, and which, says Wood, 
' being exact, several of the students did notforbear 
to whisper among themselves, that rather than 
there should be a mistake in the calculation, he 
sent up his soul to heaven through a slip about 
his neck.' We have no other evidence of the 
truth of this than an obscure hint in the epitaph 
on his tomb, which was written by the author 
himself, a short time before his death. Over 
his grave, against the upper pillar of the aisle, 
was raised a monument, with the bust of Burton, 
painted to the life ; and on the right-hand, is the 
calculation of his nativity ; and under the bust is 
the epitaph : 

' Panels notus, paucioribus igiiotiis, 

Hie jacet Democntus junior, 

Cm vitam dedit et mortem 


Ob. 8, Id. Jan. A.C. MD. XXXIX.' 




A manuscript note, written by Oldys, the cele- 
brated antiquary, states that ' The use of coffee 
in England was first known in 1657. Mr Edwards, 
a Turkey merchant, brought from Smyrna to 
London one Pasqua Eosee, a Ragusan youth, who 
prepared this drink for him every morning. But 
the "novelty thereof drawing too much company 
to him, he allowed his said servant, with another 
of his son-in-law, to sell it publicly, and they set 
up the first coifee-house in London, in StMichael's 
alley in Cornhiil. The sign was Pasqua E,osee's 
own head.' Oldys is slightly in error here ; 
Bosee commenced his coiTee-house in 1652, and 
one Jacobs, a Jew, had established a similar un- 
dertaking at Oxford, a year or two earlier. One 
of Eosee's original shop or hand-bills, the only 
mode of advertising in those days, is now before 
us ; and considering it to be a remarkable record 
of a great social innovation, we here reprint it for 
the amusement of the reader : 


First made and pubUcJdy sold in England ly 
Pasqua Rosee. 

The grain or berry called coffee, growcth upon 
little trees only in the deserts of Arabia. It is brought 
from thence, and drunk generally throughout all the 
Grand Seignom-'s dominions. It is a simple, innocent 
thing, comiiosed into a drink, by being dried in an 
oven, and ground to powder, and boiled up with spring 
water, and about half a pint of it to be drunk fasting 
an hour before, and not eating an hour after, and to 
be taken as hot as possibly can be endured ; the which 
will never fetch the skin off the mouth, or raise any 
bhsters by reason of that heat. 

The Turks' drink at meals and other times is usually 
water, and their diet consists much of fruit ; the 
crudities whereof are very much corrected by this 

The quality of this drink is cold and dry; and 




though it be a di-ier, yet it neither heats, nor inflames 
more than hot posset. It so incloseth the orifice of 
the stomach, and fortifies the heat within, that it is 
very good to help digestion ; and therefore of gi-eat 
use to be taken about three or four o'clock afternoon, 
as well as in the morning. It much quickens the 
spirits, and makes the heart lightsome; it is good 
against sore eyes, and the better if you hold your head 
over it and take in the steam that way. It suppresseth 
fumes exceedingly, and therefore is good against the 
head-ache, and will very much stop any defluxion of 
rheimis, that distil from the head upon the stomach, 
and so prevent and help consumptions and the cough 
of the limgs. 

It is excellent to prevent and cure the dropsy, gout, 
and scurvj'. It is known by experience to be better 
than any other drying drink for people in years, or 
children that have any running humours upon them, 
as the king's evil, &c. It is a most excellent remedy 
against the spleen, hjqiochondi-iac winds, and the like. 
It will prevent drowsiness, and make one fit for busi- 
ness, if one have occasion to watch, and therefore you 
are not to drink of it after supper, unless you intend 
to be watchful, for it wiU hinder sleep for three or 
four hours. 

It is observed that iu Turkey, where this is gene- 
rally drunk, that they are not troubled -with the stone, 
gout, dropsy, or scm'\y, and that their skins are ex- 
ceeding clear and white. It is neither laxative nor 

Made and sold in St MicliaeVs- alley in Cornhill, hij 
Pasqua Jioaee, at the sign of his own head. 

The new beverage, as may readily be supposed, 
bad its opponents, as M'ell as its advocates. The 
following extracts from A Broadside against 
Coffee, publisbed about the same period, informs 
us tbat Eosee's partner, tbe servant of Mr 
Edwards's son-in-law, was a coacbman; wbile it 
controverts tbe statement tbat bot coffee will not 
burn tbe moutb, and ridicules tbe broken Englisb 
of tbe Kagusan : 


A coachman was the first (here) coffee made. 
And ever since the rest drive on the trade : 
' Me no good Engalash ! ' and sm-e enoiigh. 
He played the quack to salve his Stygian stuff ; 
'■Ver boon for de stomach, de cough, cle phthisick,' 
And I beheve him, for it looks like physic. 
Coffee a crust is chan-ed into a coal. 
The smeU and taste of the mock china bowl ; 
Where huff and puff, they labour out their lungs, 
Lest, Dives-bke, they should bewad then- tongues. 
And yet they tell ye that it will not burn, 
Though on the jury blisters you return ; 
Whose furious heat does make the waters rise, 
And still through the alembics of your eyes. 
Dread and desire, you fall to 't snap by snap. 
As hungiy dogs do scalding porridge lap. 
But to cure dmnkards it has got great fame ; 
Posset or porridge, will 't not do the same 1 
Confusion hurries all into one scene. 
Like Noah's ark, the clean and the vm clean. 
And now, alas ! the drench has credit got. 
And he 's no gentleman that drinks it not ; 
That such a dwarf should rise to such a stature ! 
But custom is but a remove frona Nature. 
A little dish and a large coffee-house. 
What is it but a mountain and a mouse ? 

But, in spite of opposition, coffee soon became 
a favourite drink, and tbe sbops, wberc it was 
sold, places of general resort. 

One of tbe most noted was at tbe Sultan Morat 
or Amuratb's bead in Excbange-alley ; another 
was ' Ward's ' in Bread-street, at tbe sign of tbe 
Sultan Solyman's bead. Tokens, to serve as 
small money, were issued by botb of these estab- 
lisbments, and are bere represented. Anotber of 

tbe earliest bouses was tbe Eainbow, near Temple- 
bar, wbicb still flourisbes, but altogether in a new 
style. There can be Httle doubt tbat tbe coffee- 
bouse, as a substitute for tbe beerseller's fire-side, 
was a movement towards refinement, as well as 
temperance. There appears to bave been a great 
anxiety tbat tbe coffee-bouse, wbile open to all 
ranks, should be conducted under sucb restraints 
as might prevent tbe better class of customers 
from being offended. Accordingly, tbe following 
regulations, printed on large sheets of paper, 
were bxmg up in conspicuous positions on tbe 
walls : 


Enter, sirs, freely, hut first, if you please. 
Peruse our civil orders, tchich are these. 

First, gentry, tradesmen, all are welcome hither. 
And may without affront sit down together : 
Pre-eminence of place none here shoiild mind. 
But take the next fit seat that he can find : 
Nor need any, if finer persons come. 
Rise up for to assign to them his room ; 
To limit men's expense, we think not fair. 
But let hun forfeit twelve-pence that shall swear : 
He that shall any quarrel here begin. 
Shall give each man a tlish t' atone the sin ; 
And so shall he, whoso compliments extend 
So far to drink in coffee to liis friend ; 
Let noise of loud disputes be quite forborne. 
Nor maudlin lovers here in corners mourn. 
But all be brisk, and talk, but not too much ; 
On sacred things, let none presume to touch, 
Nor profane Scripture, nor saucily wrong 
Affairs of State with an irreverent tongue : 
Let mirth be innocent, and each man see 
That all his iests without reflection be ; 





To keep the house more quiet .and from blame, 

We banish hence carils, dice, and every game ; 

Nor can allow of wagers, that exceed 

Five shillintjs, which ofttinies do troubles breed; 

Let .all'^'s lost or forfeited be spent 

In such good liquor as the house doth vent. 

And customers endeavour, to their powers, 

For to observe still, hours. 

Lastly, let each man he calls for p.ay, 

And so you 're welcome to come every day. 

The above rules are ornamented, with an 
enjrraved representation of a coflec-house. Five 
persons, one of them smoking, and, evidently, 
Irom their dresses of different ranks in life, are 

seated at a table, on whicL. are small basins, with- 
out saucers, and tobacco pipes, while a waiter is 
engaged in serving coffee. Believing that the 
public will feel some interest in the seventeenth 
century coffee-house — the resort of Dryden, 
Wycherley, and the wits and poets generally — 
we have caused a transcript of this print to be 
here presented. 

Immediately after their first establishment, the 
coffee-houses became the resort of quidnuncs, 
and the great marts for news of all kinds, true 
and false. A broadside song, published in 1667, 
thus describes tlie principal subjects of coffee- 
house conversation : 


news from the coffee-house, or the 
newsmongers' hall. 

You that delight iu wit and mirth, 

And long to hear such news 
As come from all parts of the earth, 

Dutch, Danes, and Turks, and Jews, 
I'll send you to a rendezvous, 

Where it is smoking new ; 
Go it at a coffee-house, 

It cannot but be true. 

There battles and sea-fights are fought. 

And bloody plots displayed ; 
They know more things than ere was thought. 

Or ever was betrayed : 
No money in the IMinting-house 

Is half so bright and new ; 
And, coming from the coffee-house, 

It cannot but be true. 

Before the navies fall to work. 

They know who shall be winner ; 
They there can tell you what the Tiu-k 

Last Sunday had to dinner ; 
Who last did cut De Euyter's corns, 

Amongst his jovial crew ; 
Or who first gave the devil horns, 

^\^lich cannot but be true. 
* • * * 

Another swears by both his ears, 

Monsieur will cut our throats ; 
The French king will a girdle bring, 
_ Made of flat-bottomed boats. 
Shall compass England round about, 

Which must not be a few. 
To give our Englishmen the rout ; 

This sounds as if 'twere true. 

There 's nothing done in all the world, 

From monarch to the mouse. 
But every day or night 'tis hurled 

Into the coffee-house. 
What Lily, or what Booker can 

By art not bring about. 
At coffee-house you'll find a man 

Can quickly find it out. 

They'll tell you there what lady- ware 

Of late is gi'own too light ; 
What wise man shall from favom- fall, 

What fool shall be a knight ; 
They'll tell you when our failing trade 

Shall rise again and flourish, 
Or when Jack Adams shall be made 

Churchwarden of the parish. 
« * * * 

They know all that is good or hurt, 

To bless ye, or to save ye ; 
There is the college, and the court, 

The country, camp, and navy ; 
So great a university, 

I think there ne'er was any, 
In which you may a scholar be 

For spending of a penny. 

A merchant's prentice there shall show 

Yon all and everything 
What hath been done, and is to do, 

'Twixt Holland and the King ; 
What articles of pe.ace will be 

He can precisely shew ; 
What will be good for them or we' 

He perfectly doth know. 


The drinking there of chocolate 

Can make a fool a Sophy ; 
'Tis thou(j;ht the Turkish Mahomet 

Was first insitired with coffee, 
By which his powers did overflow 

The laud of Palestine ; 
Then let us to the coffee-house go, 

'Tis cheaper far than wine. 

You shall know there what fashions are, 

How 2)eriwigs are curled ; 
And for a penny you shall hear 

All novells in the world. 
Both old and yoimg, and great and small, 

And rich and poor, you'll see ; 
Therefore let 's to the coffee all, 

Come all away with me. 

In 1675 a proclamation was issued for sliutting 
up and suppressing all coflee-Louses. The govern- 
ment of the day, however, found that, in making 
this proclamation, they had gone a step too far. 
So early as this period, the coffee-house had 
become a power in the land — as JNIacaulay tells 
us — a most important political institution, when 
public meetings, harangues, resolutions, and the 
rest of the machinery of agitation, had not come 
into fashion, and nothing resembling a newspaper 
existed. In such circumstances, the coffee-houses 
were the chief organs through which the public 
opinion of the metropolis vented itself. Con- 
sequently, on a petition of the merchants and 
retailers of coffee, permission was granted to 
keep the coffee-houses open for six months, under 
an admonition that the masters of them should 
prevent aU scandalous papers, books, and libels 
from being read in them ; and hinder every 
person from declaring, uttering, or divulging all 
manner of false and scandalous reports against 
government, or the ministers thereof. The absur- 
dity of constituting every maker of a cup of 
coffee a censor of the press, was too great for 
even those days ; the proclamation was laughed 
at, and no more was heard of the suppression of 
coffee-houses. Their subsequent history does 
not fall within our present limits, but may be 
referred to at another opportunity. 


' His angle-rod made of a stmxly oak ; 
His line a cable, which in storms ne'er broke ; 
His hook he baited ^^•ith a dragon's tail, 
And sat upon a rock, and bobbed for whale.' 

The origin of these somewhat famous lines seems 
not to be generally known. In our contemporary 
Notes and Queries (for November 30, 1861, j). 448) 
they are spoken of as 'Dr King's well-known 
quatrain uj)on A Giant AnrjUng.' This is a mistake ; 
at least, if Dr William King, the Oxford wit and 
poet, is the person meant ; indeed, there seems every 
reason to suppose that they were composed before Dr 
King was born. With one or two trifling variations, 
they are to be found in the Mock Romance, a rhapsody 
attached to The Loves of Hero and Leander, a small 
12mo published in London in the years 1653 and 
1677 ; the foUomng being the context : 

' This day (a day as fair as heart could wish) 
This giant stood on shore of sea to fish : 
For angling-rod, he took a sturdy oak ; 
For line a cable, that in storm ne'er broke ; 
His hook was such as heads the end of pole. 
To pluck down house ere fire consumes it whole : 

His hook was baited ivith a dragon's tail, 

A ml then on rock he stood to bob for whale : 

Which straight he caught, and nimbly home did 

With ten cart-load of dinner on his back.' 

Dr King, however, is not the only unsuccessful 
claimant of the above four hnes. They are printed 
in the lifth volume of Dryden's Miscellany, and have 
been attributed to Daniel Kem-ick, a quack physician, 
at Worcester. As, however, Kenrick was thirty-two 
years of age in 1685, it is as impossible that they can 
have been written by him as by Dr King. Their 
true origin we have given above ; their authorship is, 
and probably always will be, unknown. 


St Agnes, virgin and martyr. St Cyril, patriarch 
of Alexandria, 444. Sts Thyrsus, Leucius, and Callin- 
icus, martyrs. St John of Keomay, abbot, 6th century. 
St Paulinu?, patriarch of Aquileia, 804. B. Charlemagne, 
emperor, 814. St Glastian, of Scotland, 830. St Mar- 
garet, princess of Hungary, 1271. 


St CyriUus was educated at Alexandria, where 
his uncle Theophilus was patriarch, through 
whose influence St John Chrysostom was deposed 
and banished from Constantinople. On the death 
of Theophdus in 412, St CyriUus was elected as 
his successor in the patriarchate. He is generally 
described as a man of revengeful disposition, and 
a violent persecutor of those whom he considered 
heretics. The story of the murder of Hypatia, 
the daughter of the mathematician Theon of 
Alexandria, has been related by Socrates, Nice- 
phorus, and other ecclesiastical historians. 
Hypatia was a lady of such extraordinary ability 
and learning as to have been chosen to preside 
over the school of Platonic philosophy in Alexan- 
dria, and her lectures were attended by a crowd 
of students from Greece and Asia Minor. She was 
also greatly esteemed and treated with much re- 
spect by Orestes, the governor of Alexandria, who 
was a decided opponent of the patriarch. Hence 
the malice of Cyril, who is related to have excited 
a mob of fanatical monks to assault her in the 
street, who dragged her into a church, and there 
murdered her,' actually tearing her body to 
pieces. - 

Cyril had a long and violent dispute with Nes- 
torius, bishop of Constantinople, concerning the 
divine nature of Christ, and whether Mary was 
entitled to the appellation of 'Mother of God,' 
and other mysterious matters. Nestorius was 
condemned and deposed by Pope Celestine, and 
Cyril was appointed to carry out the sentence, 
for which purpose he summoned a council of sixty 
bishops at Ephesus ; but John, patriarch of 
Antioch, summoned a counter-council of forty 
bishops, who supported Nestorius, and excommu- 
nicated Cyril. The rival patriarchs appealed to the 
Emperor Theodosius, who committed both Cyril 
and Nestorius to prison, Avhere they remained 
some time under rigorous treatment. Cyril, by 
the influence of Pope Celestine, was liberated, 
and restored in 431 to his see of Alexandria, 
which lie retained till his deatli in 444. His 



THE BOOK OF DAYS. peter the great in England. 

works are numerous, mostly on difficult points 
of doctrine, which are rendered more obscure 
by a peridexed style, and the barbarous Greek 
ill which thoy are written. They have been 
published in seven vols, folio, Greek and Latm, 
Paris, 103S. 

7Jrt„i.— Cnptfiiu ]\Iachirc, Arctic voyager, 1807. 

DiVrf.— Clmrleiiwgne, 814; King Henry VIII., 1.547, 
Windsor ; Sir Fmncis Drake, 1596 ; Sir Thomas Bodley, 
founder of the Bodleian Library, Oxford, 1612 ; Peter the 
Great of Russia, 1725 ; Mrs Johnson (Stella), 1728, 
Dublin: J. B. Danville, 1782, Par-is: ]\Iademoiselle 
Clairon, actress, 1803 ; Sir Beechey, painter, 
1S39 ; ^V. H. Prescott,, 1859. 


On the 28th of January 1725, died Peter I., 
Czar ofUussia, deservedly named the Great ; one 
of the most extraordinary men that ever appeared 
on the great theatre of the world, in any age or 
country— a being full of contradictions, yet con- 
sistent in all he did ; a promoter of literature, 
arts, and sciences, yet without education himself. 
' lie gave a polish,' says Voltaire, ' to his people, 
and was himself a savage ; he taught them the 
art of war, of which he was himself ignorant ; 
from the sight of a small boat on the river Moskwa 
he erected a powerful fleet, made himself an ex- 
pert and active shipwright, sailor, pilot, and com- 
mander ; he changed the manners, customs, and 
laws of the Russians ; and lives in their memory 
as the father of his country.' 

His taste for everything connected with ships 
and navigation amounted, in early life, to a pas- 
sion. When he had resolved to visit the countries 
of Western Europe, to learn how to improve his 
own barbarous subjects, he went straight to Saar- 
dam, in Holland, and there, with his companions, 
worked in the dockyards as a common ship- 
wright, by the name of Pieter Timmerman ; he 
rose early, boiled his own pot, and received wages 
for his labour. When well advanced in the 
manual art, he proceeded, in January 1698, to 
England, to study the theory of ship-building, 
and the method of making draughts and laying 
them off in the mould-lofts. Arriving in honour- 
able state with his companions in three English 
ships, which had been dispatched for him, he was 
kindly received by King William, but without 
state ceremonial, his wish being to remain in 
England simply as a private gentleman ; accord- 
ingly, his name never once appears in the London 
Gazette, then, as now, the only official paper. A 
large house was hired for him and his suite, at 
the bottom of York -buildings, now Buckingham- 
street, in the Adelphi, — the last house on the east 
side, looking on the Thames. It contained spa- 
cious apartments, in which some of the decorations 
that existed at the time of the imperial visit 
may still be seen.* As the Czar came not in 
any public character, he was placed under the 
especial charge of the Marquis of Carmarthen, 
with whom he became very intimate. It is 
stated in a private letter, that they used to spend 

* Pepys. the diarist, lived in the house opposite, the 
last on the west side of the street, but it has been since 

their evenings frequently together in drinking 
hot pepper and brandy. Peter loved strong 
liquors ; and we learn from one of the j)apers of 
the day, that he took a particular fancy to the 
nectar ambrosia, a new cordial which the com- 
pounder presented to his Majesty, who sent for 
more of it. 

The Czar sojourned in England four mouths. 
In the Posthoij it is stated that, on the day after 
his arrival, he went to Kensington Palace, to 
dine with King William and the Court ; but he 
was all the while incognito. On the Saturday 
following, the Czar went to the opera ; and on 
the Friday night he was present at the last of the 
Temple revels. On the following Sunday, he 
went in a hackney-coach to Kensington Palace, 
and returned at night to his lodgings (in Norfolk- 
street), Avhere he was attended by several of the 
King's servants. His movements, during the 
rest of the month, were a journey to Woolwich 
and Deptford, to see the dockyards ; then to the 
theatre, to see the Rival Queens ; or Alexander 
the Great ; to St James's, to be present at a fine 
ball ; to HedrifT, where a ship was building for 
him ; and he was present at the launch of a man- 
of-war at Chatham. 

The Czar was continually annoyed by the 
crowds in the streets of London, as he had 
been at Amsterdam, and he could not bear the 
jostling with becoming patience. As he was one 
day walking along the Strand with the Marquis 
of Carmarthen, a porter, with a load on his 
shoulder, rudely pushed against him, and drove 
him into the road. He was extremely indignant, 
and ready to knock the man down ; but the 
Marquis interfering, saved the offender, only 
telling him that the gentleman whom he had 
so rudely run against was 'the Czar.' The 
porter turning round, replied with a grin, ' Czar ! 
we are all Czars here.' 

After a month's residence in London, the Czar 
and his suite removed to John Evelyn's house, 
Sayes-court, close to Deptford dockyard. It had 
been let by Evelyn to Admiral Benbow, whose 
term had just expired. A doorway was broken 
through the boundary-wall of the dockyard, to 
communicate with the dwelling-house. The 
grounds, which were beautifuHy laid out and 
planted, had been much damaged by the Admiral ; 
but the Czar proved a worse tenant. Evelyn's 
servant wrote to him : ' There is a house full of 
people right nasty. The Czar lies next your 
library, and dines in the parlour next your study. 
He dines at ten o'clock, and six at night ; is very 
often at home a whole day ; very often in the 
King's yard, or by water, dressed in several 
dresses. The King is expected there this day : 
the best parlour is pretty clean for him to be 
entertained in. The King pays for all he has.' 
But this was not all : Evelyn had a favourite 
holly-hedge, which the Czar is said to have 
spoiled, by trundling a wheelbarrow through it 
every morning, for the sake of exercise. The 
Czar and his retinue remained here only three 
weeks ; but the damage done to the house and 
gardens was estimated at £150. 

We have scarcely any evidence that the Czar 

overworked inDeptford dockyard as a shipwright; 

I he seems to have been employed in collecting in- 




formation connected with naval architecture, from 
the Commissioner and Surveyor of the Navy, Sir 
Anthony Deane, Peter might be seen almost 
daily on the Thames, in a sailing yacht, or rowing 
a boat ; and the King made him a present of 


the Hoyal Transport, with orders to change her 
masts, rigging, sails, &c., in any such way as the 
Czar might think proper for improving her sailing 
qualities. But his great delight was to get into 
a small decked boat from the dockyard, and 
taking MenzikofF, and three or four of his suite, 
to work the vessel with them, he being the helms- 
man ; by which practice he said he should be 
able to teach them how to command ships when 
they got home. Having finished their day's 
work, they used to resort to a public-house in 
Great Tower-street, close to Tower-hill, to smoke 
their pipes, and drink beer and brandy. The 
landlord had the Czar of Muscovy's head painted 
and put up for a sign, which continued till the 
year 1808, when a person named Waxel took a 
fancy to the old sign, and offered the then land- 
lord of the house to paint him a new one for it. 
A copy was accordingly made, which maintained 
its station until the house was rebuilt, when the 
sign was not replaced, and the name only remains. 

The Czar, in passing up and down the river, 
was much struck with the magnificent building 
of Greenwich Hospital, which, until he had 
visited it, and seen the oid pensioners, he 
thought to be a royal palace ; and one day, when 
King William asked him how he liked his hospi- 
tal for decayed seamen, the Czar answered, ' If 
I were the adviser of your Majesty, I should 
counsel you to remove your court to Greenwich, 
and convert St James's into a hospital.' 

It being term-time while the Czar was in 
London, he was taken into Westminster Hall ; 
he inquired who all those busy people in black 
gowns and flowing wigs were, and what they 
were about? Being answered 'They are lawyers, 
sir,' ' Lawyers ! ' said he, much astonished, ' why, 
I have but two in my whole dominions, and I 
believe I shall hang one of them the moment I 
get home.' 

Two sham fights at sea were got up for the 

Czar ; the ships were divided into two squadrons, 
and every ship took her opposite, and fired three 
broadsides aloft and one alow, without sliot. On 
returning from Portsmouth, Peter and his party, 
twenty-one in all, stopped at the principal inn at 
Godalming, and, according to the landlord's liill, 
which is preserved in the Bodleian Lil)rary, 
there consumed, at breakfast, half a sheep, a 
quarter of lamb, ten pullets, twelve chickens, 
three quarts of brandy, six quarts of mulled 
wine, seven dozen of eggs, with salad in pro- 
portion : and at dinner, five ribs of beef, weighing 
three stone; one sheep, 56 lbs. ; three-quarters 
of lamb, a shoulder and loin of veal boiled, eight 
pullets, eight rabbits, two dozen and a-half of 
sack, and one dozen of claret. Peter was 
invariably a hard-drinker, for he is known to 
have drunk a pint of brandy and a bottle of 
sherry for his morning draught ; and after dinner 
eight bottles of sack, ' and so went to the play- 

The Czar had an extraordinary aversion to a 
crowd : at a birthday -ball at St James's, instead 
of joining the company, he was put into a small 
room, whence he could see all that passed without 
being himself seen. When he went to see the 
King in Parliament, he was placed upon the roof 
of the house to peep in at the window, Avheu 
King and people so laughed at him that he was 
obliged to retire. The Czar had a favourite 
monkey, which sat upon the back of his chair, 
and one day annoyed the King by jumping upon 
him, while he paid Peter a visit. 

Bishop Burnet accompanied the Czar to shew 
him the different churches in the metropolis, and 
to give information upon ecclesiastical matters. 
While residing at Deptford. Peter frequently 
invited Dr. HaUey from the Eoyal Observatory, 
in Greenwich Park, to dine with him, and give 
him his opinion and advice, especially upon his 
plan of building a fleet. He also visited several 
manufactories and workshops in London, and 
bought a famous geographical clock of its maker, 
Carte, at the sign of the Dial and Crown, near 
Essex-street, in the Strand. The Czar was very 
fond of mechanism, and it is said that before he 
left England he could take a watch to pieces, 
and put it together again. The King promised 
Peter that there should be no impediment to his 
engaging and taking with him to Eussia, English 
artificers and scientific men; and when he re- 
turned to Holland, there went with him captains 
of ships, pilots, surgeons, gunners, mast-makers, 
boat - builders, sail -makers, compass - makers, 
carvers, anchor-smiths, and copper-smiths ; in 
all, nearly 500 persons. At his departure, he 
presented to the King a ruby, valued at £10,000, 
which he brought in his waistcoat-pocket, and 
placed in WiUiam's hand, wrapped up in a piece 
of brown paper ! 

The memory of Peter, among his countrymen, 
is held in the highest veneration. The magni- 
ficent equestrian statue erected by Catherine II. ; 
the waxen figure of Peter in the museum of the 
Academy, founded by himself; the dress, the 
sword, and the hat, which he wore at the battle 
of Pultowa, the last pierced with a ball ; the 
horse that he rode in that battle ; the trowsers, 
worsted stockings, shoes, and cap, which he wore 


claieon's unseen rERSEcrxoE. THE BOOK OF DAYS, 


at Saai-aam— all in tlio same apartment ; liis two 
favourite dotrs. his tnrninu'-latlie. and tools, \ntli 
specimens of his -rtorknuinship ; the iron bar 
which he forged with his own Jiand at Olonitz ; 
the LitHc OrniKhirc, so carefully preserved as 
tiio tirst ijerm of the Ixussian navy; and the 
wooden hut in which he lived while superintend- 
ing the tirst foundation of Petersburg :— these, 
and a thousand other tangible memorials, all 
preserved witli the utmost care, speak in the 
most intelligible language the opinion which the 
Eussiaus hold o( the Father of his Countri/. 

clairon's unseen persecutor. 

Mademoiselle Clairon, the theatrical idol of 
Paris in the middle of the last century, relates 
in her Memoirs, that in her early days she 
attracted the aflcctions of a Breton gentleman, 
whom, as he was gloomy and despotic, she found 
it impossible to love. He died of chagrin on her 
account, without succeeding even in inducing 
her to come and see him in his last moments. 
The event was followed by a series of occurrences 
which, notwithstanding their mysterious nature, 
she relates with the appearance of perfect sin- 
cerity. First, there was every night, at eleven 
o'clock, a piercing cry heard in the street before 
her house. And, in several instances, on friends 
speaking of it incredulously, it took place on the 
instant, to the consternation of all who heard it. 
After an interval of some weeks, the annoyance 
was renewed in the form of a musket-shot, which 
seemed to be fired against her window, and was 
heard by all in her apartment, but never could 
be traced by the police to any living agent. 
Then another interval took place, after which an 
invisible clapping of hands followed : this was 
followed in its turn by a strain of fine music. 
Finally, after two years and u-half, this strange 
persecution from the invisible ceased. Madame 
Clairon states that she afterwards received a 
visit from an old lady, who had attended her 
lover on his death-bed, and who informed her 
that with his latest breath he had inveighed 
against the object of his unfortunate passion, 
and threatened to pursue her as long after his 
death as she had pursued him during his life, 
being exactly two years and a-half. 

The Duchess d'Abrantes, in her Memoirs, 
relates how she had heard Clairon give a solemn 
recital of these occurrences, ' laying aside all 
affectation and everything that could be con- 
strued into speaking for effect.' The wonder is 
how, if such things happen, they should so 
entirely fail to obtain credence ; how, if they do 
not happen, they should be so often related as 
if they did, and on what, in ordinary matters, 
would pass as sufficient evidence. 

Clairon was a great favourite with Voltaire : 
it would be curious to learn what he thought of 
her story of the invisible persecutor. She ap- 
pears to have had her full share of theatrical 
caprices and jealousies, under one of which she 
prematurely withdrew from the stage, though not 
without a considerable fortune. Garrick, asked 
what he thought of her as an actress, said she was 
I too much an actress;' which gives a tolerable 
idea of her attitudinary style. It is said she was 
equally an actress off the stage, maintaining a 

grand manner even before her domestics. She 
died at eighty-one, in full possession of her 


America has great honour in William Hickling 
Prescott, author of the histories of Ferdinand 
and Isabella of Spain, of Cortez, and of Pizarro, 
who died on the 28th of January 1859, at the 
age of 63. The historical writings of Prescott 
are among tlie few finished and classical produc- 
tions of the kind in our age, Avhich are worthy to 
rank with those of Gibbon, Hume, and others, 
in the last centurj'. Fortunate in having the 
power of devoting himself to those studies in 
which it was his ambition to excel, this eminent 
American was just as unfortunate in the deficiency 
of certain requisites wh